


The Laws of the Fae

by courgette96



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Cognitive Dissonance, Dark, Dark elements, Fae & Fairies, Fae Loki, Kidnapping, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Magical Deals, More spoilery tags in the end notes, Planing Murder brings people together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, a business man like Tony Stark should know better than to make deals with a mysterious stranger on the fly.</p><p>To be fair though, what were the odds that said mysterious stranger would be a sociopathic fairy with regicide on his mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Laws of the Fae

**Author's Note:**

> For those concerned there are some additional, spoilerish warnings in the bottom notes. Please read them if you are concerned about any triggers you might want to avoid.
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Edited because some part was posted twice

The night is dark and hides its dangers, as it always has since the birth of the world and as humans have always known since before they could speak as well as they do now. Before the night was named and with it dawn and sunset and twilight and new moons, there had been the knowledge of light and dark. Huddling around the fire to flee from the shadows, gathering in large cities where lamp poles and bright neons keep the night at bay so that none might wander in dark streets and find those predators that still dwell, be they animal or human-shaped.

Foolish humans, Loki thinks from his perch atop a building. There is another danger, twice as vicious and ten times stronger, that hides within the light itself, between its cracks or using it as a disguise. There a thousands of lights within the bright city of New York, yet they do nothing to stop his would-be-kin from walking its streets or observe through its mirrors their newest source of entertainment. Exception made of course for those here on business, but that is not something he wishes to contemplate on the best of days.

Loki, for his part, likes light very much. It is his friend, his subordinate to, a trusted companion that he can manipulate and shape as he desires. His illusions are the light as he molds it, and what fun it has given him throughout the years. Not his greatest acts of seiðr, but certainly his most entertaining.

Thunder strikes, a different kind of light altogether. Much louder, much more brutish. The lack of subtlety makes Loki’s lips purse in distaste. He has half in mind to leave, despite knowing that such large noises are for his sake, for the one that rides the thunder cannot phantom coming unannounced.

He stays, though; he isn’t in the mood to be rude today.

Thunder strikes, again, much more solid and just near him, and the first blinding flash fades the rod solidifies, taking shape and out steps his brother.

“What do you plot, dearest Loki?” Ah, Thor, kind-hearted Thor, so straight-forward, almost incapable of deceit, which is so rare for their kind. Of course dear Thor would ask directly, openly, and would maybe even expect an answer in kind.

Loki does not oblige, nor does he even look at him. “Nothing at all, dearest brother.”

Thor’s grin is wide and blinding, even as he shakes his head as he sits down besides him. “I know you lie, brother, for you always retreat to the Midgardian Realm when you wish to plan and plot and ponder.” He chuckles. “Yet you call me brother, and that fills my heart with such glee that there is no room for anger.”

“It is such a small thing, to make you so happy,” Loki murmurs, finally turning his gaze towards him.

Thor reaches out, cupping Loki’s neck with his left hand, the other resting on his shoulder. He has always been physical in his demonstrations of affection, and although Loki seldom does the same, he accepts those tender grips and occasional kisses upon his cheek. “I call you brother, for out of all the All-Father’s children, you are the one I love most dearly. When you call me the same, it feeds my hope that you may feel as I do.”

The Trickster smirks. “There is no need for you to worry, for besides you there are none I so much as tolerate.”

“My aloof brother,” Thor says fondly, “perhaps that is why you are so prone to leave Asgard so often.” Releasing Loki, he resists himself cross-legged, placing his hands on his knees. “Tell me, how did you come to this place? I have found no good passage to enter near you, and thus had to enter through swimming bassin on some rooftop. Have you moved much since you first entered?”

“Not at all,” Loki answers smugly, laying down with his hands behind his head. His legs kick in the air, knees hooked over the edge of this building. “There is a mirror on the floor just below. I used that as my entry point.”

“That? But it is so filthy and tarnished, it hardly reflects anything at all!”

“But it reflects enough,” he smirks. “For me, at least.”

“My skillful brother, you do amaze me so!” His brother lays down as well, turning on his side and propping his head up on his hand. “Perhaps you will help me on the return, that I do not have to travel to find a proper portal?”

“Use the one you entered with.”

“Humans bathe in it now, and might for some time yet.”

“They swim, at this hour?”

Thor nods. “A man and a woman, without the apparel humans tend to wear for such activities.”

That summons a chuckle, quiet but honest in its amusement. “They might as well, for it is warm out.” Loki leers. “Or perhaps it is a result of your influence, emissary of Fertility?”

“Not so! Or at least,” Thor amends, blushing slightly, “not voluntarily.”

“But magic knows what one desires, even when one does not,” the Trickster teases. “and you have always wished happiness unto others. Do not fret, brother dear, I am certain they will spend a most splendid night!”

“And you, Loki? How will your night be spent?”

The dark-haired fae rolls his eyes at the lack of subtlety. “You were not always so eager to learn all of my plots. What has changed to make you so perpetually curious?”

“Then you admit that you are indeed plotting?” Thor’s smirk is nothing short of triumphant, as if he had successfully tricked Loki instead of receiving information freely given. Loki dissolves into chuckles.

“Oh, brother, you are too clever for me!” He laughs fully, head tilted back. In his good mood, he moves himself and his brother so that they are both on their back, his head on Thor’s chest. The Thunderers hands almost immediately go up to stroke his hair. Loki closes his eyes

“I know you mock me, but I care little.” Thor’s voice is full of fondness. “Will you not tell me?”

“Hmm, I think not. It is too soon, and too delicate.” Loki turns his head, and the smile he gives his brother is as wide as Loki’s smiles can be, and truly joyful in a way they so rarely are. “But I tell you, Thor, that is shall be my greatest deed yet!”

 

 

 

Shit. Shit shit shit fuck shit  fuck!

How, seriously  how  can there be a wolf in Central Park? A wild, angry wolf currently chasing after Tony like he is the best meal it will ever have. And, considering how there is apparently not a fucking soul in the Park to help him tonight (again, how?), he just might.

He takes a sharp turn towards the left and nearly stumbles from the sudden shift in balance. He curses, again, before running off in a new direction.

This isn’t normal, this is not possible! There is absolutely no one around, which never happens in New York, and the park seems to go on for miles with no exit in sight. Tony would blame the alcohol, but he’s pretty sure adrenaline would have burned that all away or something. It’s already doing a pretty fine job of making him run like an athlete in an Armani suit and Italian shoes.

He hears a howl behind him, panics, and has to resist the urge to turn once more. Logic dictates that if ever he perseveres in one direction, he will eventually come across an edge of the Park, and will be able to climb out to safety. Any minute now, really, just keep on running until you reach….

...a dead end. Fuck!

He has the stupidest urge to punch the wall, because how dare it be there and seal his fate as a wolf-treat. And why is it there anyway? One brick wall in the middle of the path, stretching out towards the trees on each side. There is no way anyone would build something like that here, so why…

The howling sounds closer now. Oh Tesla, he is screwed!

He looks around, wildly, trying to find a way out, and almost recoils sharply when he finds himself inches away from a pair of black pants.

With a yelp he stumbles back, landing hard on his ass. Looking up, he finds a man sitting on the top of the wall. A man he is positive wasn’t there two seconds earlier.

The stranger meets Tony’s incredulous look with a bored one, his green eyes trailing lazily over the billionaire on the ground. With his dark hair and black suit he could almost blend in with the night, if it weren’t for his pale skin that seems to reflect any light that hits it and his eyes which shine eerily bright.

Surprise is quickly overridden by survival instinct. Tony scrambles to stand up, addressing the man on the wall. “Help me up, please!”

The stranger only lifts an eyebrow. “Why ever?”

“Shit, just...there are wolves!” It sounds so stupid saying that out loud, there is no way the man going to buy it. Fortunately - or rather, not fortunately at all - the shadow of a really really big wolf looms over the wall suddenly, and Tony turns to find the animal really too close for comfort.

“Shit! Help me up!”

“Why?”

“Are you serious?” Tony howls, pressing himself against the wall. “There is a wolf!”

“Indeed there is,” the man drawls , contemplating his nails. “And I am out of harm's way, so why should I worry?”

Seriously? “You little…!”

“What would you do for me, should I assist you?” The psycho cuts him off.

That stops Tony’s swearing rant short. “Huh?”

“If I were to help you out of your predicament, what would you do for me?” The prick speaks slowly, as if Tony were a very dumb child.

Whatever, the inventor is in way too much shit to be picky. “Anything, if I make it out of this!”

“Do you promise? Anything?”

“Yes, I promise, just… Shit!”

Several things happen very fast then. The wolf lunges, incredibly high and far. Tony squeeks, throwing himself to the side and falling on his ass again. The stranger jumps down, raises his hand.

He turns it sharply, and in a flash of green light, the wolf is just...gone.

Tony stares at the now wolf-free alley, then back at the man. Then back at the man, who is looking at him with a very pleasant grin. “Well, now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, we ought to get down to business. My name is Loki, delighted to meet you. I already know who you are. Anthony Stark, you have quite the reputation. Now, shall we continue this conversation in your lodgings, or do you wish to remain on the ground?”

 

* * *

 

 

Tony’s hotel room it was, after the most awkward cab ride in the history of cab rides.

Every now and then, Tony would steal a glance towards the man, only to find him looking out of the window with a bored expression. The silence lasted the whole time through, even as they entered the hotel. A few of the employee’s eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of Tony Stark bringing a  man back to his room, but whatever, they’re professionals, they’ll stay discreet.

Tony opens the door to his rooftop suite, throwing his suit jacket on a chair as he enters. He goes to pour himself a drink, and only then does he realize that his...guest didn’t follow him in.

“So...You are just going to stand there all night?”

The man just looks at him blandly. “May I enter?”

“Uh...sure. That was kinda implied.”

“My thanks,” the guy - Loki, that’s the name he gave, weird - nods his head regally before strutting in like he owns the place. “I shall have some of your whisky - Irish, nothing else - paired with the juice of a lemon and some sugar. I hope for your sake that you have an adequate amount of ice, although judging by the opulence of this place, it should not be a problem.”

“You want...Okay, sure, give me sec.” Tony moves to fix the guy his cocktail, silently grateful that the suite’s bar is so well stocked. In other circumstances he would probably have ordered the guy to make his own drink, but the way things are now he is grateful for any moment to compose himself.

He walks back towards the couch, where Loki is already lounging. He hands him his glass, then goes to sit down on the couch in front of him. He takes the first sip of his drink looking at the dark-haired man, who is critically sipping his own drink. Eventually, he blurts out “Okay, what the hell?”

“You are going to have to be more precise,” Loki drawls.

“Sorry, I meant to say: what the fuck?”

“Not much of an improvement.”

“No, no, you don’t get to sass of, not after that thing you just pulled. What happened to the wolf?”

“It disappeared.” Seeing Tony’s almost murderous glare, the man amends. “I made it vanish.”

“Yeah, figured that out,” Tony presses. “How?”

Loki’s eyebrows lift, surprise evident on his face. “Magic, of course. I would have thought that obvious.”

“Magic isn’t a thing,” the inventor answers with much more conviction in his tone than he feels. Two hours ago he would have believed that wholeheartedly. But between now and then, a dark-haired weirdo made a wolf disappear under his own eyes.

The look Loki gives is heavy with meaning, of the “I find your lack of faith disturbing.” kind. With a sigh, he twists his hand. Tony drops his glass in a panic as it is suddenly filled with snakes.

“Shit!” He jumps back, before looking at the snickering man. “What the… Okay, okay fine, I believe you. Make them leave!”

“Scared of snakes, are you?”

“Just do it!”

“They are already gone,” Loki says with a smirk.

Looking down, Tony sees that there are indeed no more reptiles, just an empty crystal glass with two ice cubes slowly melting on the carpet. His drink is now a stain on the lush carpet. That’s a shame, cause he really could have used that drink right about now.

Taking a deep breath, he gets up to pour himself another. He needs some alcohol in his system if he is to deal with a complete shift in his worldview.

He doesn’t touch the glass on the ground just in case.

After having poured himself a liberal amount of scotch, drunk the whole thing and then poured himself some more, he walks back towards the couch.

“So..how come you do magic?” he asks, then winces. There is a question he really resents having to ask.

“I am a fae.”

He blinks. “Pardon.”

“A fae,” Loki repeats, a bored look on his face. “Fairy, if you prefer, although I do not care for the term. A proficient fae, in fact, well-versed in the acts of magic.”

Now, again, two hours ago Tony would have called the guy insane, laughed and gone on his merry way. But, well, disappearing wolves, teleporting guy in a black suit, weird shining eyes. Part of being a genius is being very good at interpreting data, and Tony does not want to waste his time denying what is clearly in front of him.

So. Fae in New York. Okay then.

“Right…” Another gulp of scotch, bigger this time. “Sure, why not. You’re a fairy, and you can do magic. Super.”

“Indeed, it is quite nice,” Loki agrees pleasantly.

Tony drinks some more.

“So, going back to the business at hand - I have to, can’t dwell on the rest of the shit, I need my sanity intact - you said you wanted me to do you a favor. What did you have in mind?”

“You are no fun at all,” the man - fae, man, whatever- pouts. The psycho probably got a kick out of Tony’s near panic, the inventor realizes. Dick. “But correct in this matter. I need you to build me some weapons, according to a specific requirements of mine.”

“Uh...I can do that.” Tony nods. “Sure, no problem. Tony Stark, head of Stark Industries, and come to think of it that is a suspiciously specific request to a suspiciously qualified individual.”

“Your reputation precedes you. I am aware of who you are, and therefore aware of what it is you can do for me.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes grudgingly. “So, weapons then, alright. What do you need them for?”

“Oh, yes, quite right, I suppose you ought to know such things,” Loki answers pleasantly, crossing his legs and leaning back against the backrest. “I intend to kill the King.”

If Tony keeps on drinking, he’ll be way too drunk to carry this conversation. That is becoming an increasingly appealing escape strategy.

“Okay, okay, pause, timeout!” The billionaire takes a deep breath, then another, before looking at the fae straight in the eye. “How about you start over, tell me who you are and what the hell you plan to do,  in details  so that I can at least pretend to understand. I’ll just sit here, try not to interrupt, and hopefully not wake up in an asylum tomorrow.”

The fae huffs, crossing his arms. He still nods in agreement, but not before pointing out: “I do hope you realize how accommodating I am being with you this evening. It is not a courtesy I grant to just anybody.”

“Oh, lucky me.”

“Quite,” Loki retorts, voluntarily overlooking the sarcasm. “So, where to begin, where to begin..? I am a fae, as I have told you. I live in the kingdom of Asgard, which lies under the rule of the All-Father.”

“Okay. So far, so weird.”

The dark-haired man raises an eyebrow. “I thought you had said you would not interrupt.”

“I lied. Deal with it.” Tony almost sticks out his tongue, but he doesn’t trust the guy not to turn that into a snake as well.

Oddly enough, Loki seems happy with Tony’s flippant comment. When he starts speaking again he does so with renewed joviality. “Now, the All-Father - Odin is his name - has ruled for several millennia now. I am dissatisfied with the present situation, as I would very much like to be king instead. Therefore, I need you to create some weapons for me, that I may successfully kill him and take his place. Granted, there are some particular requirements I will need given the peculiarities of my endeavor, but I have no doubt a man of your caliber and intelligence will rise to the occasion,” he concludes with a brilliant grin. “Any other questions, Anthony?”

“How is this my life?”

“You made a deal with a fae. Any…”

“No, that was rhetorical, you ass,” Tony interrupts, glaring at him, “not that you didn’t know that. Also, it’s Mr.Stark to you - no one calls me Anthony, and you’re not allowed to call me Tony. But I do have a question: why the hell that a wizard need help killing someone from a Muggle? Can’t you just...magic him away?”

“Now, really,  _Anthony_ ,” Loki purrs. “Do you truly believe that if I could do with my magic, I would ask some human for help? There can be no magic used against the King, it is one of the rules of seiðr, more absolute even than the laws of the King, though both are few in number.”

“And weapons work...how?”

“Technology is different from magic,” the fae answers simply.

It’s Tony’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You do realize that is a stupid loophole, right? How come no one ever thought to ban that to?”

Loki shrugs. “On a balance, there have not been  _that_   many Kings killed in our history. We are rather long-lived.”

“So? How the hell does that answer my question?”

The fae just waves his hand dismissively. “It is all of little concern when it comes to you. All I need from you are weapons.”

Oh, right. That. “Uh...look, about that…” Tony says sheepishly, scratching his neck,” I’m not too sure I am completely on board here.”

“You made a deal.” Loki’s expression is a somewhere between affronted and plain bewilderment. Tony would have found it funny in other circumstances. As of now, he is trying to wiggle his way out of being implicated in a Coup d’Etat against the king of fairies.

Now there is a sentence he never thought he would say.

“Yeah, I know, but… look, if all of this goes South, and the King of magical fairies finds out that I tried, indirectly, to kill him, I am screwed.”

“If your weapons are up to par, then that shall not be a problem,” Loki points out reasonably. His outraged frown has given place to mild condescension. “You can leave discretion to me.”

Can’t the guy get a clue? “Yeah, still, no, sorry,” Tony answers, standing up. “Look, ask me something else, or don’t, but I’m not - Aaaaargh!”

Tony falls to the floor, clutching his heart as he screams in pain.

It feels like some burning hand just took hold of the organ and squeezed, pulled, and then twisted for good measure. Tony is left crying out in pain on the floor, barely able to see anything. The pain keeps him from focussing.

A clench, and he is left panting, too out of breath to do much more.

It kinda feels like he is dying.

Then, one second later it is gone, and he can breathe again. He lifts his head slightly, still dizzy, and glares at Loki who is at him with a dispassionate air.

“Do not blame me, Anthony. You made a bargain, you are supposed to keep it.” The chiding tone is so fucking rich Tony almost giggles.

Almost. He growls instead. “You fucker!”

“Come now…”

“You did this!?”

“Well, not me  personally. ” The psycho has the gall to look hurt. “It is the magic, really. When one makes a deal, it is impossible to go back on it.”

Magic did it, of course. Fuck magic, and fuck Loki to!

“Remove it!”

“Why would I do that?” The asshole actually looks appalled at the thought, as if it were the most ludicrous thing in the world.

“Damn it! I didn’t sign up for this!” Tony curses as he stands up.

“Well, actually, you did - no need for violence!” he adds hastily, if still disapprovingly, when Tony’s eyes scream bloody murder. “It is as it is, and I will not release you from it. I’m sure you understand. But,” he raises a finger when the human’s mouth parts open to scream again, “I am willing to discuss the terms. After all, they had hardly been set when the agreement was made. Shall we say….One stipulation each?”

Tony’s first instinct is to inform Loki just where he can stick his stipulations, but he reins it in at the last second.

There is no way he is putting himself through that kind of pain again, not voluntarily, and he does not doubt for a second that Loki means it when he says he won’t release him. So he’s stuck, for now. Best play with the cards he is dealt. And this little psycho-fairy wants to negotiate with the head of Stark Industries, then he better be prepared. “Nuh-uh. I already have my part spelled out. It’s my turn to make demands.”

Loki startles for a second, then smirks, obviously pleased by this turn of event. “Hardly. I saved you from a wolf, remember?”

“I’m still the one doing all the work here,” Tony retorts, “so I should have more stipulations than you.”

“According to whose rules?”

“Mine. So, I get five stipulations, you get one.”

“Two and one.”

“Four and one, and you get to have one veto.”

“Two for three, two vetoes each.”

“Three for one, and no one vetoes anything.”

Loki pauses. “That...seems acceptable.”

“Goodie,” Tony deadpans. “So, we agree? I get to put three conditions, you get to put one?”

“Agreed.” Loki nods his head regally. “I imagine you wish to start?”

“Sure, why not? Give me a minute.” He really needs to think this one through. What are his biggest priorities here. “Okay. First of all, you guarantee my safety during and after this little enterprise, until I get back home. At no moment should I fear for my life, or even fear injury.”

“Very well.”

“Two, you do not keep any information from me. Any key info is shared, and if I ask you a question, you answer it honestly.”

“I have never lied to you,” Loki points out helpfully.

“We’ve met an hour and a half ago, don’t get too proud,” Tony retorts. “Third, you use no magic on me. At all.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that. I do not mean to be difficult,” Loki adds when the inventor is about to object, “I merely mean that in order to guarantee your protection, as well as other practical considerations, I will have to cast at least some workings on you.”

“Okay, then, no magic on me without my free and informed consent. How does that sound?”

“Most reasonable. May I state my condition?” the fae asks politely.

Too politely, it makes Tony nervous. “Uh, sure.”

“From the beginning of this contract until the King is killed, you will remain in Asgard.”

“What?” Tony blurts out. “No, that…”

“No discussion, do you remember, Anthony?” Loki interrupts him cooly. “Discretion will be paramount, and going back and forth between Asgard and the same location in Midgard is an excellent way to draw attention. You will come to Asgard with me, and stay there until the deed is done.”

“I… I can’t just leave. I have responsibilities here!”

“Do you? From what I have heard, you feel the weight of your “responsibilities” very little.”

Dammit, bastard had a point. Tony really doesn’t spend much time on his company, just drops in every now and then to reassure everyone that he is still alive. Obie deals with the business side of things, really, Tony just designs new weapons and talks very fast. In fact, more than once Tony just dropped everything to go on vacation or something, without informing anyone. He even got a kick out of not answering his phone.

It never lasted for too long though. “I can’t be gone more than a week without people starting to worry. There is no way I can get everything done in that amount of time!”

“What do I care if they worry?” Loki replies haughtily. He sniffs. “But if it reassures you any, time flows differently in Asgard. A week there is but a day here. You should be fine.”

“Really?” Tony asks skeptically.

Loki teeth grind visibly. “I am being as accommodating as I can, but I would appreciate it if you stop questioning me at every turn or assuming I lie constantly. It would not do for our collaboration to be….difficult.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Tony raises his hands in surrender. “We set the terms, we’re satisfied all around. Let’s prepare a revolution!” He sighs. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” He is about to protest again, but backs down at the sight of Loki’s flashing eyes. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll pick my battles with you. We have to leave at some point, right? I will need a lab though.”

“Write down whatever it is you will need, and I will see to it that you have a duplicate of them all in Asgard.” Loki says curtly. “If that is all, I shall take my leave.”

Tony isn’t sure what he was expecting. Mainly, he just sort of thought the guy would disappear, like in every movie, with or without a puff of smoke. So when he sees Loki turn his heels and march straight towards one of the guest bedrooms of his suite and shut the door behind him, he is too busy staring in incredulity to stop him.

After staring at the door for two whole minutes, he goes back towards the bar.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“No.”

“Anthony…”

“Nope, nu-uh, non, niet, nein,” Tony shakes his head vehemently, “I am not letting my baby abandoned next to a pond.”

“Technically, it is a reservoir.”

“Reservoir. That’s french for “don’t leave million dollar cars by the roadside”, right?”

“Anthony…”

“Cause listen, I’ll be the first to tell you not to listen to the french, but every now and then they do get something right.”

“You will…”

“I mean, have you even  _tasted_  their bread?”

“Enough,” Loki snaps finally. “You will do as you are told, and that is final.”

“Look, I didn’t say anything when you made me drive us out by car, I kept my mouth shut when you told me to go to  _New_ _Jersey_  of all places, but this?” Tony shakes his head again. “I am not leaving my Audi by the road.”

“Yes you are,” Loki replies not too patiently. “I chose this location specifically because it is a fine reflective surface in a remote area of this region. You will leave your car here, I shall put a glamour upon it so that none will notice it is there, and you will not complain any further.”

“Just watch me,” the inventor replies petulantly. He glances at his car before turning back resolutely towards the fae. “You will also put a spell on it so that it doesn’t get damaged.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “I am inclined not to do so just as a lesson not to be too demanding.”

“But you have to,” Tony replies smugly. “You guaranteed my safety until I get back home. Imagine me coming back in a car that rusted away? Who knows what trouble I could bet in?”

The fae looks at him blankly for a few seconds, before bursting out into chuckles. “Oh, but you are clever.” He waves his hand, and the car shimmers and disappears. “Done and done. Now, will you stop being difficult?”

“That was me being easy.” Hey, if a psycho fairy is going to drag him along to kill his father, the least he can do is make him regret it.

“Splendid.” Loki mutters something most likely uncomplimentary under his breath before summoning an apple in his hands. It glows a bright yellow, almost like those photoshopped fruits you find in magazines. Except shinier. “Eat this.”

“But I’m not hungry.”

“If you don’t, you will die minutes after entering Asgard.”

“Oh, look an apple!” Tony takes on big bite, and cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes his mouth. He closes his eyes. “Oh, man, that may be the best fruit I’ve ever eaten. Do I get more of these?”

Cracking his eyes open, he just catches Loki staring at him intensely before the dark haired man schools his expression. “Twice a week, at the very least. You will need a regular intake of food in order to survive in Asgard. These apples happen to be the most potent vectors of protection, so I find it more prudent to feed them to you regularly.”

“Cool,” Tony nods. “So, how are we getting there?”

Loki says nothing, merely gestures towards the water.

Tony whistles. “Seriously?”

“I much prefer to travel by mirror. Alas, this type of travel will be far easier to comprehend for your human mind.” Loki says casually. “If you’re ready then.” He turns to start walking towards the reservoir.

Tony follows, although much more slowly. “So, we just step in?”

“Jump in, actually.”

“Okaaay, this is - wow!” Tony stumbles when Loki pulls him tightly near him, tripping over his own feet until he manages to catch his balance by gripping the fae’s clothes. “Okay, I was going to say it was weird, but I was wrong. This, right here, this is weird.”

“Oh, hush,” Loki huffs. “Get ready.”

Of course, a psycho-fairy would not do something so plebeian as count to three and then jump. No, what he does is all but cary Tony as he leaps into the water half a second after his warning.

Tony doesn’t have the time to collect any air, and in his surprise he shouts under the water, emptying his lungs considerably. He hits Loki on the arm a couple times, to make him understand how unacceptable such behavior is.

Then he starts hitting him again, harder, because Loki is still bringing them down, down, down, the reservoir is much deeper than it should be and at no point in all this did Tony ever have the occasion to get some air!

He starts struggling, bucking and kicking, trying to get free, get back to the surface. The fae’s arm don’t budge, don’t even tighten their hold, and it’s then that Tony gets a sense of just how  _strong_  Loki is. It would be amazing in other circumstances.

However, he is currently being trapped under water, so it is fucking terrifying.

He struggles even harder now. It’s a mistake, he knows, since it means the precious little oxygen that he has will only be consumed that much faster. He cannot help it though.

Kick, twist, punch. Shit shit, he is going to die here, he just knows it, he…

“Quit your struggling, Anthony. It is annoying.”

“Fuck you, you psycho, I ..!” Tony’s stream of curses dies out on his tongue.

He is talking.

Talking requires air.

Oh, look at that, he is breathing. Under water. “What the hell?”

Loki shoots him a condescending look. “Did you believe I would let you drown?”

“A warning would have been nice,” Tony answers, still bewildered.

“A warning that there will be nothing wrong? What a curious human concept.”

“I am breathing. How am I breathing?”

“Magic. Hush, we are almost there.”

Tony fallows Loki’s gaze to find that he is indeed approaching the surface. His internal compass is screaming at him, because he  _came_  from the surface so there really should only be the bottom of the reservoir in front of him. But nope, none of that coherent space nonsense. Instead of dark waters, soft warm light is shining through above their heads, and the water is clear enough that he can see a stone ceiling.

Out of reflex, he closes his eyes when they reach the surface, and takes a ultimately unnecessary deep breath coming out. He opens his eyes, and huh?

“I’m in a bathtub,” he states, blinking.

“Yes, yes,” Loki replies irritated, pulling at his arm. “Now come on out.”

Tony complies, though somewhat reluctantly. “Why am I in a bathtub?”

“Well, I thought it better to have you enter through my chambers rather than for all to see,” Loki says dismissively, walking out of the bathroom. Tony follows. “This here is the main living area. Beyond that door,” he points at a large double-door made out of carved wood, “is the bedroom. And beyond that one,” he points at a smaller one, made out of metal this time, “is a reconstruction of your workshop. I trust you have been thorough in indicating to me what you need. I shan’t be going back and forth between realms. Any questions?”

“You said the bedroom. Are we sharing a bed?”

“Yes.”

“Do we  _have_  to share a bed?”

“Are you always so difficult?”

“I thought you heard about me.”

“Enough,” Loki snaps, turning to walk towards the bedroom doors, opening them wide. “It is night time here, so I suggest that you take you rest.”

“But dad,” Tony mock whines, “I’m not tired.”

“You will be soon enough. Travelling through different realms is quite taxing,” the fae dismisses him utterly. “I will see you in the morning.” With that, he walks away once more, this time towards what Tony assumes is the exit.

“Wait, where are you going?!” It’s not that Tony wants to be in the guy’s company. He just doesn’t want to be dropped like a hot potato after being dragged off to fairyland. It seems rude.

“I have business to attend to. I would invite you to come along, but I expect you to drop any second now. Goodbye!” He calls out as he walks away, the door slamming shut in a most dramatic fashion right after his last sentence.

Which leaves Tony alone in the living room, a lushly decorated room made out of light stone walls and floors, green couches with golden embroideries and several large wooden bookshelves along the wall. It’s so very different from his own place in New York or Malibu that is suddenly hits him.

He is alone. In a completely different world. And he has to share a bed.

“Well, fuck.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t know what is worse: that Loki actually sealed the door shut so that he couldn’t leave the room, or that shortly after he had tried he did become so tired it was all he could do to drag himself towards the bed and pass out.

He has no idea how long he slept for, only that when he woke up it was barely dawn and he felt more refreshed than he has in a long time. That led him to wonder if the bed was somehow enchanted to grant great sleep, prompting some reflection on magic itself and its limits.

Which in turn led him to a conclusion that made him curse and kick himself for not thinking of it sooner.

As such, when Loki finally enters the room after having spent the night he-doesn’t-care-where, it is all Tony can do not to punch him straight in the face.

“Wolves in fucking Central Park,” he growls.

“Hmm?” Loki hums distractedly, going through his bookshelf before pulling out a small leather-bound tome. “What about them?”

“You know, I was somewhat distracted these past few days, coming to term with the existence of fairies..”

“Fae.”

“Fairies, and getting roped into a deal to kill the king, so I didn’t have much time to think about things - clever you, I see what you did there. But then it occurred to me : how the fuck do wolves appear in Central Park?”

“Oh, that?” Loki shrugs, still not looking up from his book. “I summoned it, of course. I needed you to agree to the bargain  _somehow_ .”

That, of all things, nearly cuts Tony’s anger short. For some reason, the fae’s entire nonchalance about the entire affair is more compelling than any apology or explanation. An implied “yeah, I screwed you over, but we has already established that before anyway, so what does it matter how I did it?”

What is there to say to that, really?

“If it is any reassurance, your life was never truly in danger.”

And the anger is back again. “Please stop talking.”

“Yes, indeed.” Snapping his book shut, Loki struts out towards the lab. “There is much work to be done, we should start immediately.”

“What? No, I…” He objects just because he can, really, since the faster this is done the faster it he can leave. His voice dies down when he sees the inside of the lab. “Okay, points for accuracy, looks just like it. But what does this - okay it’s a hologram counter. I was going to install one actually, didn’t need your help.”

“I have no doubt,” Loki replies honestly, “although I do find it appalling that such devices are not more widespread in your world.”

“Yeah, well, you and me both.” He eyes the projection. “You know, I would have made the interface blue instead of gold.”

Loki snaps his fingers, and the color scheme changes.

“Huh, thanks, I guess.” He walks around the workplace, opening drawers and fiddling with machines as he talks. “So, weapons, huh? Don’t suppose I could just give you a bomb and have it done with?”

“If all I needed was such brute strength, I could have easily stolen one from your government,” Loki shakes his head. “I need to kill a select few, not level the palace to the ground.”

“Yeah, figures,” Tony mumbles. “Can’t rule a pile of rubbles, now can you?”

The fae beams. “Yes, precisely! No matter how entertaining it might be.”

That makes Tony startle in surprise. It wasn’t an intellectual feat by any means, so why the hell does Loki so pleasantly surprised he made the leap?

“On another note,” the dark-haired man continues, “the All-Father will be guarded by the Einherjar…”

“Bless you.”

“...who all wear large armours that keeps most of their bodies shielded. Added to that, once my intentions become clear, I can expect some physical defenses to be put up to hinder my progress. Therefore, I will need something small and handy enough to deal with the armor whilst powerful enough to destroy wards, as well as discrete enough that it does not arouse suspicion until due time.” The fae gives him a pointed look. “I am sure it will not be a problem.”

Tony swallows. “How powerful are we talking?”

“Very.”

Which is probably a code for “take a bomb, triple that, then put that on steroids”. Great. “I’ll need some time to figure that one out.”

“Take all the time you need.”

“And hey, while I’m in here being brilliant, maybe you could do some nice introspection and realize that you don’t really want to kill anyone at all! Then we’ll all just go our separate ways, I’ll forget this all ever happened and wouldn’t that be nice?”

Loki frowns. “I have quite frankly no idea why you are so uneasy with the task at hand when it what you do for a living back at home.”

“Not the same, Rock of Ages, so shove it. My weapons serve to work against terrorists, not to…”

“Ah, yes, the greater good,” the fae sneers. “That old arguement. You only kill those who deserve it? By whose judgement? The one of your country? Every party in battle believes the other deserves death, what makes your stand more righteous than any other? More righteous than mine, which sets itself in a world you have no true knowledge of?”

Of course, Tony has an answer ready at hand, the same old Stark Industry spiel he says at every event where a journalist approaches him with the hope of stumping the CEO of the world’s largest weapons company. They are all easily dealt with, mainly because they all come to him with claims to a moral high ground that didn’t hold up to the hard truth of the real world.

This time, though, the tables have turned, and Tony of all people is the one making the moral argument. And when the time comes to recite the party line, the words don’t come out as smoothly as they usually do.

“If it reassures you any, nothing of what I have done so far during our interaction has been illegal,” Loki adds haughtily. “If anything, take consolation in the fact that the All-Father is the kind of man that would allow me to do such things to you.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that,” Tony mumbles, eager to seize a way out of what is shaping up to be a, incredibly uncomfortable conversation. “So I’ll just...be here then, figuring stuff out. See you in a month!” With that, he turns his back towards the fae, starts fiddling around with the hologram screen.

There is no way he can actually focus working as long as he is in the same room as the guy, but maybe if he pretends hard enough he can trick him into thinking that he’s busy.

Sadly, Loki does not appear too convinced. “You intend to remain secluded here until the end of our affair?”

“Oh, “our affair”, haven’t heard an euphemism like that since the last time I spoke to Stern. And yeah, pretty much.”

“And how do you intend to eat?”

“Hey, you kidnapped me, the least you could do is bring me some food.”

Loki actually seems to be considering it. “In truth, I see no objections to that. Frankly, I doubt you could sit through our feasts without one of my kin accidentally killing you. But I can hardly keep a human here and expect it to remain a secret.”

“Not my problem.”

“I will take you outside from time to time. If I do not hide your presence, people shall be less suspicious.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Or they could just decide that your presence here is too well-hidden to be of any good omen, and reassure themselves by killing you.”

Tony pauses, one hand in midair against the hologram. “They would seriously do that?”

“Faes find little reason not to dispose of anything that causes them strife,” Loki responds in a euphemism that completely beats the one from two minutes ago.

The human takes that all in, swallowing audibly. “I am in a den of psychopaths, aren’t I?”

“Worry not, Anthony,” the fae answers brightly, if somewhat mockingly, “I will protect you.”

“Thanks,” Tony answers sarcastically, “because you need me and the contract says so. I am so touched.”

Loki actually looks more impressed than angry at his snark. “You learn quickly.”

“It’s pretty easy; all you need to ask yourself is “what would an asshole do?”

 

* * *

 

 

The first few days are actually very informative for Tony, allowing for a him to set up a little scoreboard for his “Asgard vs Earth” world-off.

First, he learns that fairyland actually works on a forty hour day. That means more hours for science in one day, which means one point for Asgard.

Second, Asgard is the tackiest place he has ever been to. Apparently, fairies have so much gold they decided to make everything out of it, from the bathtub to the paper bin. Then, having genuinely no idea what to do with it anymore, they just laid it on every available surface, and probably added a second layer just to be safe. And hey, Tony likes gold as much as anyone else, but there is such a thing as overkill.

He had pointed out the complete and utter lack of taste to Loki, just to see what his reaction would be. Turns out, it was only a shrug. “The All-Father is fond of the metal, so he has decorated Asgard as he saw fit.”

“Seriously? He didn’t consult anyone before hand? Not one advisor to respectfully inform him that he has shitty taste?”

Loki gives him a pointed look. “The King can do as he likes.”

So that’s one point for Earth.

The tie breaker comes in the form of this exchange during his first day out of the chambers, when Loki decided to take him out to some sort of stadium:

“Fandral, good friend, shall I challenge you to a friendly spar?” says blond fairy number one. His blue eyes shine eerily bright, just like everyone else’s here.

“You honor me too much, Prince Thor,” answers blond fairy number two. (He sounds kind of reluctant to Tony’s ears, but maybe that’s just him).

Blond fairy number one nods delightedly. “I would like to specify that no killing is permitted during our fight.”

Ding-Ding! Asgard is down, Earth is the winner by having homicide already implicitly banned, thanks for playing!

Look, Tony expected things to be… different when meeting other faes, but he still had assumed that Loki would have exaggerated how commonplace murder is here to present himself in a better light. Apparently not.

He is suddenly very glad the two of them are sitting so high up on the bleachers, it makes for more distance between the two of them and the group of people with sharp axes and swords.

As the two blonds get into positions, Tony turns towards the dark-haired fae, morbid curiosity getting the best of him. “Was it really necessary for him to specify that there would be no killing?”

“Hmm, not really,” Loki replies casually, still looking at the arena. “Fandral has no chance of beating Thor.”

The human stares at him with wide eyes. “And that answers my question how?”

“Well, Thor will most likely incapacitate Fandral is some way, thus winning the game, and making his specification a moot point.” He glances towards the human. “It is not required to kill anyone.”

“Just allowed so long as it is not explicitly banned.”

“Yes.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what happens if Thor kills him anyway?”

“It won’t happen,” Loki waves his hand dismissively. “The fool enjoys seeing his adversaries progress and hone their skills. Killing them would go against that desire. Moreover, it is against the rules as he defined them.”

“Yeah, but what if he ignores them?”

The look he gets is an odd mixture of amusement and contempt, as well as no small measure of bitterness. “Fae do not break the rules.”

There is enough gravity in his tone to shut Tony up, but he makes no effort to hide his confusion. He’s pretty sure fairies are supposed to be happy-go-crazy, I do what I want kind of creatures. Hel, Loki’s entire vocabulary seems comprised solely of “I want” and all its synonyms. So what’s with this supposed utter respect for the rules?

A cry from the arena interrupts that train of thought. Blond fairy number one, Thor, has defeated the other with one heavy swing of his hammer. Fandral has gone flying towards the wall, and is now struggling to sit back up.

Both of them are laughing.

“Next time, you shan’t be so lucky!” the one on the ground says in good humor.

“Luck has little to do with it,” Thor answers with a grin, before turning towards Loki. “The only luck to be seen here is that my brother has joined us for once.”

Funnily enough, no one else seems to agree with the sentiment. The reactions from people in the crowd vary from polite nods to barely hidden glares. Thor seems completely oblivious to all that as he continues. “But you bring a guest, and a mortal one at that.”

“Indeed,” Loki answers, sitting up to walk down the stairs leading to the training grounds. Tony, not knowing what else to do, follows. “I had thought some fresh air would do him some good.”

“He does look quite pale,” Fandral calls out, having finally picked himself up from the ground. He leers at Tony. “Perhaps he has spent too much time indoors? You have not be seen outside of your chambers for the past few days.”

The implication would have been clear enough without all the eyebrow wragging. The fae’s probably exaggerating just to make him uncomfortable, in which case he is obviously unfamiliar with Tony Stark. The billionaire has been caught in public way too many times to feel any shame.

Loki laughs. “Is it not the duty of a host to make sure his guest is satisfied?” As he speaks, an arm comes to snake itself around Tony’s waist, and the human is pulled tightly to the fae’s side.

Oh, Tony realizes,  _that’s_  how they are explaining his presence here. The psycho-fae and his human boy-toy. It must be a pretty common occurrence, for these people to just assume that that is the relationship between the two of them. (And isn’t that a somewhat disturbing thought.)

He would protest, but the weight of Loki’s hand on his hips and the fae’s entire demeanor scream “mine, no touchy!”, and the entire story is much less conspicuous than “here, a random human is hanging around, just don’t mind him.”. Clearly, if Tony wants protection, it isn’t going to get much better than this. That’s… fine actually. It could definitely be worse; he could be posing as his new valet for all he knows.

The blond laughs. “But how satisfied can he be, if it has taken a mere three days for you to seek entertainment elsewhere? I, for one, would not even consider leaving a room until the week is past.”

Tony doesn’t like the way they talk about him as if he were not there, and he  _definitely_  doesn’t like the turn this conversation is taking. So he puts on his best playboy grin and says with fake nonchalance. “Hey, for all you know I’m the one who wore him out. What makes you think you can keep up?”

“My, little human!” the blond says, “it that a challenge?”

“It’s no fun if the odds are that rigged in my favour.”

“If you truly believe so, then perhaps you should separate from your current lover,” a woman intervenes, glaring at Loki, “for he does not believe as you do.”

The man in question recoils in mock outrage. “You wound me, Lady Sif, to think that I would waste time talking to him about opinions when there are other things that can be done with - ah,  _to_   him.” The crowd chuckles at his frat-boy joke even as the woman’s eyes narrow. “Moreover, I have always played fair.”

Sif looks at him with murder in her eyes. “You have cheated, you foul, honorless creature, and only a fool…”

“You are returning to discussions long put to rest, Lady Sif,” Thor interrupts, not unkindly but surprisingly firmly for such a generally cheery guy. “No proof has ever been brought forward, and the accusations have been dropped.”

She sneers. “Proof enough is that he has defeated me in combat when never before has he ever been able to graze me.”

“Perhaps I was merely lucky,” Loki replies, his innocent tone contrasting sharply with the shit-eating grin on his face. If Tony ever had any doubts about Sif’s accusations - and he didn’t - then that expression would be answer enough.

The woman apparently has the same idea. Her face grows red with fury, her brown eyes gleam even brighter, and suddenly a sword appears in her hand. Within a second, she is lunging towards Loki so fast that for a split second Tony is sure that he will end up with an impaled fae on his hands, and shit, what will he do if Loki dies, he hadn’t thought of that, he needs a plan like right now…

The furious warrior collides heavily against a large chest, and strong hands hold her at bay even as she struggles (not as hard as she could, Tony notices.)

“Sif,” Thor says lowly, warningly, “you should refrain from attacking my brother, at the very least outside of proper jousting.”

The woman stares at him for a few seconds, still fuming, before nodding reluctantly. “My Prince,” she says as politely as she can, prompting her hand to be released. As soon as she is freed from Thor’s hold, she steps back. “I believe I will depart for Midgard, for entertainment. May we meet later.”

With that, she leaves, not turning back when she hears Fandral’s call behind her. “Don’t go to that bar in Munich, Sif! I had intended to find some maiden for myself in that one.”

“I don’t see how my presence there will keep you from doing your sport!” she says back.

“You distract them!”

“Then you are not skilled enough!” With that last reply, she turns the corner and disappears from their sight.

Seeing Tony’s slightly confused expression, Loki explains. “Sif enjoys prowling your Midgardian taverns and injuring those who would… look down on her, shall we say?”

“Some even perish from the wounds!” Fandral adds, somehow managing to say it brightly as he pouts. “Most entertaining to watch, but it makes it all the more difficult to bring Midgardians to my bed.”

“Have you ever considered enthralling them?” Loki asks helpfully. “That would solve your problem nicely.”

“But then where would the sport be?”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating, anyway?” Tony asks, only to have Thor look at him with a mixture of affront and bewilderment.

“Of course not! How could the use of a spell be considered foul play?”

“No reason, none at all,” Tony backtracks quickly, internally wincing. He should really just avoid talking while he’s here. No that he is going to. “So when Sif said you cheated during battle, what she meant was…?”

“She implied Prince Loki used magic during their fight,” Fandral explains sagely.

Tony blinks. “But you just said magic isn’t cheating.”

“It is when it comes to jousting.”

“What’s the difference?”

He gets no answer. The two blond fae merely blink at him, confused. “One cannot use magic when jousting,” Thor repeats again, slowly, as if Tony just didn’t understand him the first time.

The human really tries not to let it irk him. “Okay, fair enough, but why?”

Before either blond can open his mouth, Loki steps in smoothly, pulling Tony by the waist. “Please, do not confuse the human so, you will break him,” he says, before adding with a lear: “I still have used for him.”

That gets the two laughing, while Tony opens his mouth for a scatting reply.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Loki drags him away. “In fact, I believe we should retire now. Good day!”

“Good day, brother!” Thor calls out, still laughing. “Have a merry time!”

“Oh, I believe I will,” Loki purrs in reply, before all but carrying Tony away.

The human lets himself be dragged along, until he judges that he is at a safe enough distance that he won’t be manhandled into silence. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“I just saved you from what could have been a very tricky situation,” Loki answers coldly, still not putting him down. “You should thank me.”

“Wait, hold up, I was in danger? How?!” Tony protest. “All I did was ask…”

“Precisely,” the fae cuts him off. “Customs are merely rules that are tacitly accepted. Faes do not break rules, and more importantly, they do not question them.”

Tony gets a pointed look from the dark-haired man as he is released from his hold. They have arrived in front of their room, and he is quickly ushered in before the door shuts behind him. He turns around to glare irritatedly at the fae. “So, I challenged them a little - barely at all, but whatever. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Loki’s goes still, his entire demeanor changing. If Tony had thought his careless selfishness and arrogance had placed him at a distance from all those he talked to, it was nothing compared to now. His expression is completely blank, the kind of neutrality that only happens when hiding some much more turbulent emotions beneath.

“Getting your mouth sewn shut, for one,” he answers eventually, his voice completely toneless in a way that is frankly more off-putting than his casual amorality and homicidal planning. It must show on Tony’s face, for Loki forces out a cynical smile before continuing. “I have need for you yet, and I wouldn’t have you injured because you do not know when to stay silent.”

Tony swallows, forcing a shrug. “Yeah, well good luck with that. Most people in my life have tried, with no good results.”

“Seeing as I am capable of literally dragging you away, I am not worried.”

That, of all things, makes him chuckle. “Point taken,” he says, before walking towards the table near a couch so embroided with gold it is almost impossible to tell the colour of the fabric beneath it (green, incidentally). Once there he picks up an apple from the fruit bowl, and closes his eyes in bliss as he bites into it. He has no idea what goes into it, but damn if it isn’t delicious. “So, that Sif girl, what’s her deal?”

“Nothing much,” Loki answers with a shrug, walking towards the sofa chair near the window and all but falling on it, leaning heavily into the backrest and with a leg hooked over the armrest. “She simply believes I cheated, which is in fact a very grave accusation in our land.”

“She almost killed you.”

The fae waves his hand dismissively. “She was welcome to try. Outside of a formal joust, I would have been free to use my magic without repercussion, and killed her for it.” He pauses, frowning. “Actually, precedence would dictate that I would have simply cut off her arm instead.”

Tony almost asks, almost, before deciding he doesn’t want to know. “But that Thor guy stopped her. He must like you a lot.”

“Oh, yes. He even considers me his brother.” Loki smiles then, a small curve of the lips that is barely there but unmistakable. “He had been the first Prince, as we call the All-Father’s favored. When I gained the title, he was...quite eager to know me, and after that to be in my company. I couldn’t shake him off no matter how much I tried.”

Tony hasn’t know the fae for that long of a time, but after more than a week spent almost constantly in his company, he has at least some knowledge of his expressions, or lack thereof. Right now, there is a softness in his eyes that has never been there before, and the amusement in his tone is not nearly as dark as what Tony has seen before. “You like him to,” he comments with a smile of his own.

That startles the fae, and he blinks as if Tony had interrupted him in deep thought. When he answers, his tone is almost defensive. “He is… incapable of deceit, and has an earnest joy and appreciation for things. He also has taken a shine to me, which is why he calls me brother. It makes his company… not too offensive.”

“Relax, I won’t tell anyone,” Tony teases, actually feeling warmer inside than he has a long time. The fact that Loki actually cares about someone, no matter how much he tries to hide it, is deeply reassuring to him. It gives the fae something relatable, something human , and Tony hadn’t realized how much he needed that until now. He had already talked himself into this, but it is nice to know he is not working for a completely feelingless psycho.

Loki shifts in his seat slightly, and purses his lips. Tony wouldn’t say he looks vulnerable, not even near, but hesitant most certainly. “Thor is loyal, to everyone he deems worthy of it, but to the All-Father most of all. If the King should be attacked, unless the attempt is swift and discreet, he will… defend him, with his life if he must.”

Tony contemplates him, noticing how the fae looks away as he speaks. “You want to keep him out of the way?”

The look of hesitance disappears from Loki’s face. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Trying to control his movements the day of the deed will take up way too much time. Just make sure you can take care of him should he stand in your way. A sentimental oaf he may be, but he is the best Thunderer this realm has seen since Zeus.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Not that it should be difficult, I’ve heard you humans already have the technology to deal with storms.”

It’s a convincing act, and maybe even the truth. Tony is willing to believe that, in part, but he has years of practice acting flippant and disinterested. Enough to know that the greatest acts have a little truth in them. And a whole lot of lie. “You don’t want him harmed, do you?”

“Ideally? No, but I will not inconvenience myself in order to keep him alive. I will do what I need to do,” Loki answers casually, before his face turns cold and distant once more “As will you,” he adds, turning to look at Tony with a glare daring him to say anything. Like calling bullshit.

The human isn’t scared. “No problem, I was already going to go the discreet and minimal casualties rout anyway. Your brother will be fine, no need to worry.” The fae’s cheeks redden slightly, and he looks about to deny what Tony just said. The human gives him a pointed look. “Trust me on this. I’m not the one that actually  _wants_  to kill anyone.”

“Nor am I,” Loki shoots back irritatedly, getting up. “Do not try to presume anything about me. It will be inaccurate, and it will not endear you to me.”

Tony stares, stunned. “Then why are we doing this?”

The fae pauses. His teeth and fists are both clenched, his lips in a straight line, and although he is looking at Tony, the human has a feeling he isn’t actually seeing him.

“There are some things I do not tolerate,” he says tonelessly.

Again, Tony is pretty sure Loki isn’t referring to him at all, but before he can ask for any explanation, the turns around and leaves without another word, walking towards the bedroom door and shutting it harshly behind him, leaving the human alone in the room.

Tony stares at the door for a long time, before eventually dragging himself to his lab. He doesn’t get much work done that day.

 

* * *

 

 

He never does ask for any further explanation.

Not only is it out of survival instinct, but also because he knows a touchy subject when he sees one. When he first consented - coerced, of course, let’s not forget that - he had assumed that Loki was motivated solely by power hunger and ambition. Surely, whatever are his true motivations - assuming he isn’t simply lying to manipulate Tony, which is still a possibility - they cannot be worse than that, so does it truly matter?

He has been progressing with his work, the conception stage nearly over. Very early in the proceedings, he had realized that one weapon wouldn’t cut it, if only because the amount of power needed would require a very bulky instrument, something Loki has been very firm on not wanting.

So, two weapons then. One of them will go to Loki, the other one will be his. That way, the fae will need him to complete the plan. It probably isn’t a necessary precaution; after three weeks in fairyland, Tony has learned that magic deals are indeed taken very seriously here. If Loki promised to return him to Earth safely when it is all over, then he will.

Still, it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful around the fae.

Ever since storming out after the awkward staring, Loki hasn’t given up his casually heartless act once. (An act, yes, that was Tony is calling it now. He doesn’t believe for a second that Loki is anything less than amoral, but he now knows that there is more to him than that.) It serves as a good reminder of just what situation Tony is in right now, which is a good thing because the fae is also really entertaining.

He has a noble nonchalance to him, and a deadpan snark that often has Tony snorting with laughter. His entire attitude reminds the human of his own behavior with the press. Pure showmanship, the kind that comes from being much savvier and more intelligent than the average person. And by Tesla, Loki is  _smart_.

It’s not that he shows off his intellect, or even comments upon it. It just shows, from his attitude to his choice of words, to the way he can keep up with Tony’s banter in a way very few people can. Tony has long gotten used to eye rolls and resignated sighs, and to have someone to verbally spar with is incredibly refreshing.

Also, there is the magic, which never fails to send Tony’s brain into overdrive.

“Wait, wait,” he interrupts Loki one day. “You can’t just make things appear.”

Somehow, he had managed to convince the fae to explain just how his magic worked, or seiðr as he liked to call it sometimes. (A completely stupid name Tony is never going to use ever). Despite Loki’s whole “magic is different from technology” talk, Tony is convinced that magic is just science that isn’t trying hard enough.

Now all he needs is to make Loki see that.

“I can’t?” the fae asks, eyes comically wide in mock shock. “Well then what have I been doing these past thousand years I do wonder!”

“Conservation of mass,” Tony argues back. “You can’t just create something out of nothing. It has to come from somewhere. Like a…. secret pocket, another dimension…” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, there you have it, a pocket dimension!”

“Even if that were true,” the fae answers sweetly, “from where did those objects come to land in that pocket dimension?”

“Have them pre-made then stored away.”

“Sounds tedious.”

“No, it sounds scientifically accurate.” Tony exaggerates a sigh. “You know what, I don’t even know why I bother with you. You’re probably lying anyway.”

Loki shoots him a look that between affronted and insulting. “Have you forgotten about our deal?”

“No.” Yes. Or rather, he had forgotten how absolute it apparently is. “I just don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want, it does not change the facts,” Loki dismisses. “Quite frankly, it is an incredibly basic trick. If you struggle to grasp that if all things, I have little hope that you will ever comprehend magic at all.”

“Defying physics is  _basic_ ?”

“Hmm,” Loki hums in confirmation. “All the guards are able to summon any weapon at will, even Sif is proficient at it, and she has barely enough seiðr in her to make her eyes glow,” he adds with a sneer.

“Really? Then how come I never see you do it?” It’s not that Tony doesn’t think Loki capable. It’s just that he has never been able to resist poking the dragon, especially when it comes with a british accent and a condescending gaze that is so scathing it becomes kind of awe worthy. Like whatever you just said is an insult to basic intelligence, and it is just so good that Tony cannot help but find it secretly funny. Probably because it reminds him of a cat his nanny once had, and the mental of image of Loki as a cat is just pure gold.

The fae does not disappoint. “Just because I do not doesn’t mean I can not. I choose not to,” he says primly, and Tony makes a mental note to get the guy to watch the Aristocats one day because Loki is seriously channeling that white kitten.

That leads to another mental image, this time featuring Loki is a pink bow. “So what can you do?” he asks much more loudly than necessary to keep the laughter at bay.

“Many things,” Loki replies, either not noticing Tony’s struggle or just ignoring it. “So many in fact that listing them would take far too much time.”

The human rolls his eyes. “Well, aren’t you special.”

“Yes.” The satisfaction is rolling off Loki in waves. “There are no men like me.”

Tony is ready to call bullshit on that one, if only because he is pretty certain that the King should have at least some skill to hold that position. But that would actually imply bringing up Odin, a dangerous pursuit these days.

Still, he’s not going to let the bastard of the hook. And after a few weeks in fairyland, he is Loki-savvy enough to know what question to ask. “How about any women?”

“Oh, very good,” the fae purrs, looking both pleased and impressed. Tony knows he just won some sort of game the weirdo had concocted in his head. There is no reason for him to hide that particular piece of information, or be so to the letter in his wording. He probably only did it to see if Tony would pick up on it.

Games, again. Tony wonders if there is anything else fae do in their lives. “So?” he presses on when the fae doesn’t elaborate. “Who is she? Is it Sif”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Loki huffs, taking the bait most beautifully. “I am referring to my mother. She is most skilled in a multitude of domains, and she has taught me most of what I know.”

“Your mother?!”

Tony wishes he could say he is faking the amount of surprise in his voice, but that would be lying. The embarrassing truth is that he never considered the fact that Loki must of had come from somewhere. No, in Tony’s mind, Loki had sprung from the darkness, fully formed, with his smirk, and had proceeded to fuck shit up for the hell of it and look fabulous while doing so. Not that Tony is not condoning anything or implying anything more than the fact that Loki has enough attitude and style to make Anna Wintour weep tears of wonder and joy.

And his own mind is getting sidetracked, which is no good because he needs to go back to the very important fact that Loki has a mother. What kind of women raised him, Tony is dying to know. “Will I meet her?”

Voice light and casual, as if he isn’t basically holding his breath waiting for the answer.

Loki shrugs.“Most likely. Although one seldom meets the Queen in privacy, so it will most likely be during a public event. From afar as well, but then again I honestly don’t know what the two of you would talk about.”

Tony blinks, once, twice, one more time for good measure because there is no way Loki said what he just said. “Your Mother…” he starts slowly, certain that the fae is going to interrupt to correct him at any second, “...is the Queen?!”

“Yes.” It is said as if it were both the most obvious thing in the world and so natural it is barely worth commenting upon. Tony has no idea if Loki is using that tone just to mess with him or if it is genuine.

Whatever the case, the fae doesn’t need further prompting from the human to elaborate. “She fulfils that role very well. All-Mother to the people, she is indeed as benevolent and caring as can be.” He smiles even as he speaks. “Frigga is her name.”

That sends Tony reeling. If the Queen is his mother, then there is one logical question that follows. “And the King…” Tony bites his tongue before he can continue, but it is too late.

The mention of the All-Father is enough to have his voice turn cold again. “Is not my Father.”

Well, that is slightly better than planned patricide, but still, adultery in fairy land? “Wait, so..”

“Do. Not. Presume.” Loki hisses, green eyes flashing, more effective in shutting Tony up than any threat or lawsuit.

The previous good mood is completely shattered now. The two of them stare at each other in a silence made all the more awkward to Tony because if anyone is to blame for this, then it’s him. Sure, Loki is acting like the bipolar psycho he probably is, but all this wouldn’t have happened if Tony hadn’t pried.

For once in his life, Tony decides to extend an olive branch. “So, the Queen… what is she like?”

The question is awkward, vague and kind of lame, but it does the trick. Loki’s eyes soften once more when he speaks of his mother. Unlike with Thor, there is not even the pretence that he does not love her. “She is… gentle, in a way, a rare quality for a fae. Much like Thor is that regard, except that her particular brand of tenderness is much less boisterous.” He chuckles then, shaking his head in fond memory. “Patient, as well; I remember as a youth how I would pester her to teach me shape-shifting, refusing to believe her when she said she did not know how. I thought she was testing me. It took me ten years to believe she was not”

Tony cannot help the smile that forms on his face, nor does he particularly want to. “What convinced you, in the end?”

“She said, “Loki, my darling, I love you dearly, but if you ask me one more time I will change you into a horse and you will learn how to shift back on your own.” I did not want to take the chance.” He laughs, so infectiously that Tony joins in. “Funnily enough, when I mastered the skill the first shape I assumed was that of a mare.”

“Really?” Tony perks up, curious. “Care to demonstrate?”

The shine of mischief and dangerous glee in Loki’s eyes is only indication Tony gets that he has made a very, very big mistake.

Actually, to be fair the second indication he gets is when he finds himself hanging the jaws of a fucking huge wolf, the back of shirt caught between the front teeth.

The wolf - Loki, damn him, black fur and green eyes don’t lie - hufs out what would probably be laughter in human form. Then he braces himself, body tense for half-a-second, and jumps straight out of the living room window which is apparently just big enough to let him through.

Tony curses, screams, curses some more when he hears that wolf-laughter again. The jump takes them far, which only make sense because the legs doing the jumping are very long legs, and they land straight in a palace courtyard.

Not taking any time to catch his breath, or even ascertain property damage, Loki leaps again, taking them over the rooftops, lands again and keeps on going. Tony can’t keep track of where they land or what damage they caused, doesn’t try to because he’s too busy screaming, and quite frankly, laughing.

Tony Stark is no stranger to speed, owns the fastest cars on the planet in three different colors each, and none of them even compare to this, jumping, flying , the world blurring around him and nothing to hold on to.

It is a pure adrenaline fest and it is perfect.

Loki takes them to a hill Tony can usually barely spot from his bedroom window, and unceremoniously drops the inventor by merely opening his jaws, just close enough to the ground so as to not injure him.

He then shifts back to his natural form, and falls on the ground laughing next to Tony, who is wheezing as he is lying straight on his back.

“You son of a bitch,” he gasps between his chuckles, “you’re going to give me at least twenty magic demonstrations before I forgive you.”

“Come now, Anthony,” Loki purrs, propping himself on his elbow, “you and I both know you are nowhere near upset.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll still give me those twenty so that I don’t  _act_  like I’m upset.”

The fae’s eyes widen. “Anthony,” he breathes out, “are you blackmailing me?”

Tony lifts his head slightly, looking at Loki sideways. “Um, yes?”

The look Loki gives him - surprise, delight, maybe even wonder - let’s him know he is going to get everything he asks for.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Loki!” he calls out one day, pulling at his shirt. “There is a stain here! Magic it away for me!”

“Give it to one of the servants,” Loki replies without looking up from his book.

“But I want you to do it!” the human all but whines.

“Why?”

“So I can figure out how it works!”

“You’ve abused the privilege.” And with that, Loki flips a page, still not looking up.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Look, it’s not my fault your magic defies the basic laws of physics. Just because you can’t manage to explain it in science terms doesn’t mean I won’t be able to. All I need are a few energy and wavelength measures and I’ll rectify your ignorance.”

“Your primitive instruments could not possibly capture anything of relevance.”

“Then what’s the danger in letting me try?”

“It is a waste of time that you could spend working on our project.”

“It’s not “our” project,” Tony protests, “it’s mine, my work, and I get to decide when I work on it.”

“Indeed,” Loki agrees sweetly, “and it is “my” magic, so it is my prerogative to decide when I used it.”

Tony opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again before throwing his hand in the air in surrender. “Fine, you win this time!” he says in mostly feigned irritation, pulling his T-shirt over his head before tossing it on the chair. “But I’ll wear you down, believe you me.”

“I am over a thousand years old, Anthony,” the fae remarks. He looks up, his eyes lingering on Tony’s now bare chest. The corner of his mouth twitches. “It will be nothing short of a miracle if you manage to outshine me in patience.”

“Do you know how many PAs I went through already? And I’ve only been CEO for like five years,” he shoots back, throwing himself on the couch. Loki’s gaze doesn’t bother him at all; if anything, he likes the reaction he is getting. It means he can add “interdimensional” to his playboy title. “Besides, I’m determined.”

“Indeed you are,” Loki agrees, eyes going back to his book. “It is a quality I am unaccustomed to, saddly enough.”

“Really?” Tony asks, propping himself on his elbow. Loki is really not the sharing type, but if there is one thing he loves, Tony learned, it is trash-talking other fae, something the human can totally get behind. “What, are all fairies lazy asses or something?”

“They like winning,” Loki says with a sigh, “and enjoying themselves. A game is only fun if you win.”

“But Fandral lost his fight?”

“Thor is the one that initiated the fight,” he explains patiently, “the only thing worse than a sore loser is someone who refuses to play at all.”

“Huh,” is all Tony can reply. As far as non-logic goes, that particular one sort of makes sense. “So, are you the same?”

“I put up with you, don’t I?”

“Smart ass,” Tony chuckles, before smiling smugly. “So, you admit I challenge you?”

“You are exhausting, difficult and capricious, only redeemed by your talent at designing tools for my bidding.”

“You say the sweetest things,” the human responds. “I knew I was your favorite.”

“It is hardly a feat, given the competition,” Loki drawls.

Tony perks up, blinking in surprise. “Wait, really, I am?” he blurts out, incredulous. His usual bravado reasserts itself quickly enough though. “I mean, of course I am. Who else is could it be. We’re going to have to break the news to Thor gently though. Wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

He said that last part more as a joke than anything else, and Loki is usually good at differentiating those from his plain self-confessed narcissism. Which is why it is such a surprise to see the fae sneer in response. “There is no risk in that regard,” he spits out. His eyes are now glaring daggers at the pages, his hands trembling from the strength of his grip. Distantly, Tony wonders just what went into that book to make it so solid. “No doubt he would be surprised to find that it is not the All-Father who holds my favors.”

Tony curses silently. He’s been making conscious efforts not to bring up the King during their conversations. Not only for his own sake, although admittedly not thinking too hard about the project he is working on really does make things easier. Mainly though, it is because whenever Odin’s name pops up, Loki’s entire demeanor changes completely. Despite his claim not to want to kill the King, there is no denying the rage Loki gets in whenever he is brought up, no matter how much he tries to conceal it. Rage, and maybe something else, because in those moments there is a shine in the fae’s eyes that Tony never manages to identify.

It’s not a subject he should be digging into; more accurately, pressing even a little may actually make his relationship with Loki turn sour within an instant, despite how well the actually get along now. (Again, Tony is very familiar with sensitive subjects.)

So, in an effort to dissolve the tension, Tony offers Loki the chance to do what he loves best. “Not your favorite? Can’t say I blame you. He looks like a shitty King to me,” he says irreverently. “I mean, I’ve been in this place for what? Four weeks? And I haven’t even seen his shadow in all that time. Didn’t even drop by to say hello. I mean, what is up with that?”

“He is most likely visiting his pets,” Loki replies, reasserting his air of superiority without any apparent effort. However, Tony thinks the fae may have shot him a grateful look. “Old man so loves his rare and special creatures. An eight-legged horse, a giant wolf tied in ribbons, two very annoying ravens… He has an entire menagerie he spends a great deal of time in.”

“Seriously? I thought he was King, doesn’t that come with some work to do? With great power comes great responsibility, and all that shit?” Tony asks, making his tone extra mocking for good measure. “Really, no one has any problem with that.”

Loki shrugs. “The King can do as he likes.”

“It’s good to be King,” Tony quotes, before regretfully realizing that Loki probably never say the movie. “So, what are your plans once you become Evil overlord?”

There, a nice, definite change of subject. Who ever said Tony was incapable of diplomacy?

Everyone, but hey, Tony always loves proving everyone wrong. He’s good at it.

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far,” Loki answers, and holy shit, Tony thinks he is being honest. The fae actually takes the time to think, the tip of his fingers tapping against his lips. Eventually, he answers resolutely: “I’ll do what I want.”

“Oh, good, solid plan. 100% supported,” Tony nods approvingly. “It’s what I’d do, so of course it’s a great idea. Although, might I also suggest taking care of that gold infestation you have on your hands?”

Loki snorts. “I shall take that into consideration.”

“See, that’s why a King needs an advisor. He has to get his good ideas from somewhere.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The most frustrating thing about fairyland is that Tony no longer a goddam clue of how long he’s been here. He knows he’s gone to sleep at least forty times, but that doesn’t mean much anymore because his sleeping schedule has always been less than regular. Also, the forty hour day fucks up any attempt to keep track of those things anyway.

Still, he is positive that it has been a hell of a long time, and even a genius like him needs a break from time to time. That usually means going out on walks, with Loki as a guide/bodyguard. The fae is actually putting effort in their days out, making sure to keep things interesting for the human.

As it turns out, once you get beyond the criminal abuse of gold and all the statues of tall bearded men, Asgard is surprisingly….normal, as far as cities go. The tall spiraly buildings are actually very much like skyscraper, except with folded dimensions within each room and tons of mirrors everywhere to facilitate passage to Earth and back. There are marketplaces, tons of them actually. Tony had been surprised that a race that could just magic up food would need a market, until Loki had explained that food wasn’t the point at all. It is all about the different rules: in one of them bargaining is allowed, in the other you can try to steal but if you get caught the shopkeeper can maim you, the one where you can fight for your food (not just the other customers, as it turns out. The merchants all have their own weapons at hand, including one of the biggest fucking axes Tony has ever seen).

It is all fascinating, from a cultural standpoint, and highly entertaining when experiencing it with Loki, who is clearly a master at whatever games the fae base their lives on. Tony has never seen someone bargain like that. If the dark-haired man wasn’t so hellbent on being King, he would be a fantastic salesman.

It has gotten to the point where despite Tony’s undeniable love to stay inside and do science, he is also looking forward to his visits with Loki, although he would never say it out loud.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to: the fae’s smug smirk whenever they go out is a sure sign that he knows already. Smart fucker. (That last thought was loaded with ten times more fondness than what is acceptable, but Tony isn’t going to dwell on that. Nope.)

There are also parks, and like on Earth, they are generally more peaceful, save for the bunch of kids playing around whilst their caretakers look over them and makes sure no one gets hurt too badly. Tony and Loki stopped in one of them, sitting on a bench that is just like any other bench on Earth save for the fact that it is made of gold. The two of them sit side by side, just taking in the scenery and the people. Tony is nibbling on some sort of candy Loki bought for him, stringy and purple and with a completely unidentifiable taste. He’s pretty sure it’s both tangy and sweet, but whenever he licks instead of biting it become bitter and dark like coffee, and no, he has no idea how that works, thanks for asking.

To take his mind of logic-defying food, he focuses on the children instead. Most of them have typical human colorations, save for the oddly shiny eyes that seems to be a common trait among all fae. He watches them run fast, jump high, lift incredibly heavy-looking things without blinking an eye, until his gaze is drawn towards a group of much younger kids, playing on the sidelines. It strikes him as an odd picture, because it is so...normal. They cannot be more than three years old, sitting in a circle passing a ball around, no magic to be seen. He narrows his eyes, looking at them individually.

One boy with dark skin and dark eyes, a girl with blond hair and blue eyes, another one with green orbs, and another set of eyes afterwards and…

Realization hits him like a lightning bolt, the memory of stories he heard a couple of times in his life, making him sputter in both horror and confusion. “Loki...are those...are those  _human_ children ?”

“Hmm?” Loki turns a bored glance towards the group in question, before shrugging. “Why, yes, of course.”

“Of course?” Tony’s cry is loud and incredulous. He turns sharply towards the trickster, dropping the piece of candy in his hand. “What do you mean of course? Those are children, you stole…”

“Not me personally,” he drawls. “And I suggests you keep your voice down. If you offend too much in public, I will not be able to protect you.”

That’s rich, that is fucking rich, that the children-thieves would get offended if Tony even dared express outrage. He is about to let Loki know just where he can shove his offense, but a sharp look from the fae makes him reign in his tongue. For all his affected nonchalance, the Trickster’s gaze is full of warning and seriousness.

This is no joke, and if Tony wants to survive he needs to keep his voice down.

He forces himself to reign his anger in, but it is barely contained at all when he speaks again. “I don’t think there can be a good explanation for this, but you had better come up with one fats otherwise I will punch you.”

“As if that would hurt me,” Loki scoffs, but one murderous glare from Tony makes him serious again. “I was honest when I told you not to talk about such things in public, it could truly bring you grievous harm.” He sighs. “But I will attempt to explain, despite knowing you will not be satisfied: the Fae cannot produce offspring, and whatever carnal pleasures we indulge in, we know no fruit will come of it, for we are all as barren as the driest of lands.”

“So you kidnap human children to boost your numbers?” Tony’s voice is still trembling.

“They are not human for long. They eat our fruit, drink our water, and soon enough they shed the nature they were born with for one that will last them throughout their much longer life.”

This… this too much for the day, for any day for that matter. He leans forward, putting his face in his hands as he tries to process what he has just learned. “You don’t seem too shaken up about it.”

“It is the way.” He can hear the shrug in that voice.

“You do realize that means that…”

“Not now,” Loki interrupts sharply. “We will discuss this again, if you insist, later on. But for now, in public, you will give up this line of questioning. For your own sake.”

“Remember our agreement? I could totally make you say it.”

“For your own safety, Anthony.”

Tony growls in frustration, because there is really nothing he can do about this, and as much as he wants to be a good person, there doesn’t seem much point in dying for this right now. “We will talk about this again,” he vows.

“If you’d like.”

With a weary sigh, he sits back up, letting his head fall back. “Does this mean you stole me to?” He doesn’t think so, not if the stories have any truth to them, but he needs confirmation.

“No. Only children, very young one, may be stolen to our realm.”

“Then how the hell do adults wind up here?”

“I didn’t steal you, boy, I borrowed you,” Loki corrects. “I fully intend to bring you back to Midgard after our business is concluded. I’ll even return you alive, which is not a courtesy many of my kind grant.”

“So you fae can bring any adult here, so long as you return the body to Earth. Great,” Tony is back to sarcasm, if only as a defense mechanism. “Borrowing, not stealing, what a fucking stupid loophole. Again.”

“The rules are the rules, and I am breaking none,” the Trickster answers happily. “You should be happy though. Very few fae have any interest in keeping a human for any length of time, so it seldom happens.”

“But it has happened, right?”

“Oh, a few times,” Loki shrugs. “A few decades ago, a group of youngsters had taken to picking up a few humans for a time, leaving them in our flying ships before…”

“The Alien abductions?” Tony interrupts, sputtering. “You… you guys are behind all those alien abduction stories?”

“It was quite a popular joke in its time.”

Tony lets his head fall back, groaning again. “You know, if I wasn’t so angry and exhausted, I’d probably find it funny, but right now I think you’re all dicks.”

“We are fae, Anthony.”

“Dicks, all of you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He never does let it go, but well, time goes by and he never gets a chance to ask Loki about it again. Tony suspects that the fae has been making efforts to distract him; added to that that the human cannot seem to bring himself to just bring up the subject out of the blue, and the elephant in the room goes largely unaddressed.

It still sits in the back of his mind, so that’s something for Tony’s conscience. He isn’t a total bastard, even if he still does fun stuff, right?

Fun stuff comes in many different forms, from speeding through the city thanks to Loki’s various forms (so far Tony’s favorite is a giant eagle that totally reminds him of Tolkien) to finally attending a proper feast, like he is doing tonight.

It had taken a fair amount of pestering (not pleading, because Starks do not plead) to get Loki to agree to it. Apparently the fae wasn’t kidding when he said that Tony might accidently get killed, and had only agreed to bring him alone if the human took precaution to make himself more endurant “should an unexpected fight, stamped or drinking contest happen”. Which really only meant eating an apple every day for a week so that the magic in them or whatever had a higher effect.

An apple a day keeps the psycho fairies away, who knew?

That precaution hadn’t done anything to deter Tony. To the contrary, it had only made him more excited to see this through. Surely, it meant for some serious partying as soon as he got to the feasting hall, right?

Wrong.

Tony has been sitting on his surprisingly comfortable wooden chair for half-an-hour now, and nothing has happened. Everyone is already seated, and they are all just making small talk and waiting.

Tony  _hates_  waiting.

“Ugh,” he groans, throwing his head back. It bangs against the backrest, but he manages to keep his dignity by not wincing at the pain. “Just how long is it going to take?”

“Patience, Anthony,” Loki chides like a long-suffering teacher, “we are waiting until the King and Queen arrive.”

“But what’s taking them so long?” It isn’t whining if he’s in the right. “Did Frigga lose an earring or something?”

There is a sound to his right, not quite a gasp but almost. He turns his head to see Sif looking at him disapprovingly. The guy next to her - Hogun, he thinks his name is - speaks to him for the first time since Tony arrived . “You are bold, to refer to the Queen by her name.”

“Aye,” Thor agrees from his left, leaning forward a little so he can look past Loki at the human. “Until any favor has been granted to you, you are to refer to her as the Queen, or All-Mother.”

“You know, when I first learned about the existence of fairies, I really thought there would be less protocole and more doing whatever you want. My bad.”

“Anthony, do not pretend to have less intellectual honesty that you do,” Loki berates with an eye-roll. “Not even in Midgard would you refer to anyone by their first name until that person allowed it.”

“Yeah, well, just you wait. I’ll get that permission the second I meet her.”

Thor laughs. “You sound confident.”

Tony gives him his most winning smile. “Hey, have you seen me? I am very charming.”

“I wouldn’t trust it, were I in your position,” Fandral intervenes, “it is well known that the Queen can only ever be charmed by the King.”

“Uh, look, Robin Hood, I didn’t mean I would seduce her…”

“The greatest love this realm has known!” Thor booms, completely ignoring him. His chest is puffed with pride, as if he had anything to do with that. It reminds Tony of any sports fan whenever their team wins a game. “Never has there been a pair as true in affection and devotion as our King and Queen!”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really?”

“Indeed!” Thor takes a deep breath, and the human knows he is in for a story. Next to him, Loki rolls his eyes and mutters something incomprehensible next to Thor’s loud voice. “Many years ago, shortly after our King took the throne, he travelled to Midgard, in a land near the sea. The fragrance of herbs were heavy in the air, the sun hot and heavy, and although our King did not need any respite that could not be granted by his magic, he still decided to go to a clearing within the woods, where he could find some shade.”

“There, shielding herself from the sun, was a young maiden, most fair and graceful even under such harsh conditions. Our King immediately found himself smitten.”

“And so he took her by the hand, and lead her to our Realm, where she now rules as his Queen,” Thor finishes proudly, a wide, sappy grin on his face, the kind you usually get when watching ridiculously cheesy romantic comedies.

Tony just stares, because A) the story actually kind of sucked, and B) what the ever loving fuck?

He is about to open his mouth when he feels a hand tightly gripping his wrist. He glares at Loki, trying to tug his hand away. The fae holds on. “Not in public, Anthony,” he whispers harshly.

“Fuck that,” Tony hisses back, still trying to wrestle his arm free. He manages it eventually, but only because Loki sighed and let go. Rubbing his wrist, he asks, still whispering: “Was any of that actually true?”

“Well, not precisely,” Loki replies, “it is the official version, slightly romanticized, a few details changed. Thor is a dreadful storyteller, so that plays a part as well. The essence though,” he adds with a conceding gesture, “is accurate.”

“Thought so,” he mumbles, and he wishes he could be more surprised. “So, is kidnapping always romanticized with you people?”

“Well, people seldom care unless it involves the rulers of…”

“And how the hell did the King take her anyway?” Tony cuts him off. He got the gist, and quite honestly, he doesn’t want to hear it. “I thought only children could get captured. Did no one notice it when a grown woman just appeared out of nowhere to be Queen.”

“For common fae, yes, since keeping anyone older would require great amount of magic to make possible. However, sitting on the throne does enhance one’s magic” Again, that casual, matter-of-fact tone; Tony really hates it at times. “As for any notice to be made…” he shrugs, “the King can do as he likes, so why bother?”

Tony doesn’t reply, merely glares at the empty chair that stands at the head of the table. It is, of course, golden and gilded and very tacky to Tony’s eyes, and what kind of guy has that kind of shitty taste anyway?

Ironic timing and the sound of doors opening give him his answer. The entire room falls silent as the King and Queen approach the high table, hand in hand.

Frigga looks exactly like he expected her to: regal, motherly in her soft and knowing smile. Beautiful as well, her blond hair tied up in her hair in some sophisticated do that Tony may have seen in a history book once. Unlike the most here, her dress, made mainly out of blue silk, could reasonably pass for an Earth gown, if you looked passed the gems around the collar that definitely didn’t look like anything from the little blue planet.

All in all though, she looks kind and approachable. Tony supposes that is a good thing, because her husband is entirely the opposite. Grey hair and beard, an armour made of nearly-black metal, an eyepatch to match (in other circumstances, Tony would have laughed at how he clearly color-coordinated the two), a sharp blue eye shining and alert.

Tony is vividly reminded of Howard, even if the two look nothing alike, and gulps uncomfortably.

The All-Father holds his Queen’s hand as she takes her place at the table, before straightening himself and surveying the room. No one has said anything since their entrance, so he doesn’t even need to make any gesture to demand silence before he starts speaking.

“My children,” he begins, his voice resonating so loudly Tony figures it must have been amplified somehow, “tonight we feast, tonight we celebrate, for the fae are strong and their lives are merry. Take your pleasures where you may, and let none leave this table not fully satisfied.”

The hall cheers at those words, and the talking begins anew. The King himself takes a seat as servants come forward to bring food.

“Huh,” Tony comments as a young, dark haired boy comes serve him something that vaguely resembles a potato gratin, “that’s… disappointing.”

“Truly, Anthony?” The look Loki gives him shows just how unimpressed the fae is with his opinion. “You are the first human to sit at a feast in the presence of the All-Father, yet you allow yourself to pass judgement?”

“Course I do, my opinion is gold. And quite frankly, that you have people bring food to you when you could magic a shit-ton more, Harry Potter style.”

“Ah, Tony Stark, your words do appeal so!” Volstagg - known to Tony as the voluminous redhead of Thor’s friends - exclaims, words barely comprehensible through his mouth full of food.

“See? The ghost of Christmas Present agrees with me!” Tony keeps his voice extra-smug, just for Loki and his glorious eye-rolls of disdain. Turning back towards Volstagg, he asks between bites. “Is there any reason for this huge travesty?”

The big guy looks slightly uncomfortable at the word “travesty”, but that’s nothing another bite of food cannot solve. “No magic is allowed at the table, by decree of the All-Father.”

“Really? That seems...arbitrary.”

Volstagg nods as he eats, more in acknowledgment of Tony’s words that in agreement. “The King can do…”

“As he likes, yes. I know the drill,” Tony finishes with a sigh.

Loki hums in pleasure next to him. The human turns to look at him, finding a smile that is all teeth and eyes with a wicked glint to them. “It is not nearly as arbitrary as you might think, Anthony,” the fae purrs. “Our King has a most valid reason for this regulation he has enforced upon us.”

“Yeah?” There is no conceivable way this line of conversation will end well, but there is also no way Loki will be deterred from whatever shit-stirring enterprise he is currently on.

“Indeed,” Loki continues, grinning even wider if it is at all possible. “After all, the use of magic at the table is what allowed our current ruler to ascend to the throne. He is one to learn from the past, isn’t that correct, All-Father?”

Odin puts down his silverware and looks at the dark-haired fae, but other than that gives no reaction. If he is hoping that refusing to add fuel to Loki’s fire would kill the fae’s rant in his tracks, he is wrong. If anything, Loki takes it as a challenge. “You see, Anthony, although it is law that no magic may be used against the king - a law of magic, something no fae could possibly spurn - that does not mean that someone determined to, shall we say, do harm, is without ressources.”

No shit, Tony thinks, that’s the reason I am here in the first place.

“So you see, before our most revered All-Father took his place upon the throne, the King was a man named Bor. Well, you might know him better as Kronos, but then again you humans have always had a talent for distorting any tale or truth that comes from our realm.”

Loki, ever the orator, twirls his hand in the air to accentuate his speech. “You may wonder how King Bor met his demise? Well you see, at the time there were many with the title of Prince, for the All-Father held many of his children in high regard. Among them were two that will hold our interest. Our current ruler, and Zeus, a renowned thunderer and shape-shifter.”

“Cunning, they were, and allied they were near unstoppable. Bor learned it at his expenses, when the food he ate and the wine he drank suddenly turned into stones.” Loki pauses then, turning away from Tony with a pensive look on his face. “I am not sure anyone can properly picture just how horrid the pain of that must be, but let us try and imagine. There is the weight, firstly, which I can only assume must be most uncomfortable. Then, we must consider that rocks are never smooth, oh no. Lots of jagged edges, sharp corners and points. This rips and tears they must cause, as the digestive track does its work and compresses around them…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “One shudders at the thought.”

Tony risks a glance towards the King. He knows exactly what Loki is doing, and his speech is less for Tony’s education and more about talking about killing kings right in front of the current ruler.

Loki is going to get them killed. The impassive expression on Odin’s face doesn’t do anything to convince him otherwise.

“So, as you can imagine, our King Bor was most impaired by this turn of event. Although our magic usually helps us heal quite fast, that level of injury does require for a massive amount of seiðr to heal, almost the entirety of the King’s ressources. From then on, it was an easy task for our two Princes to grab the All-Father and throw him into the nearest river - the Nyx, I think you humans might call it?”

“Don’t know,” Tony answers - and why he is speaking when Odin is still not-quite glaring at them is anyone’s guess. “Never paid much attention to mythology…”

“Pity,” Loki laments exaggeratedly, before continuing his tale. “Now, you may think that a King would be able to free himself from such a predicament. Alas, when the two Princes claimed the throne, he was no longer All-Father, now was he? The kingly magic left him, and what remained within him was much too busy trying to heal his interior wounds to be of much help. His body may be sinking to this day, I doubt anyone took the time to check.” He chuckles, and adds as an afterthought: “Besides, Zeus and Odin went to war with each other to have sole custody of the throne, so everyone was otherwise occupied.”

“Loki,” Odin speaks up finally. He looks at the dark-haired fae like any stern father would. “You are monopolizing the conversation.”

“Forgive me, Father,” Loki inclines his head, the contriteness in his voice clashing with the predatory grin on his face. “I merely find such tales… inspiring.”

Tony almost spits out his drink. Is Loki insane? That is a death-threat, clear as day. He looks around, certain that he will find shocked and angry faces ready to tie Loki to a stone and throw him to join Bor. Maybe Tony can somehow claim to be uninvolved?

But no one looks particularly alarmed. Weird, suspicious, but Tony would prefer to keep an ear on whatever the hell Loki is saying than spend too much time questioning his blessings.

“And I am most flattered,” the King replies, his single blue eye still boring into Loki. “It is the wish of every parent that their child learn from their experience.”

“I have done nothing but, All-Father.” Loki’s eyes narrow slightly, and Tony almost believes that the fae will just drop the plan and attack right there and then.

“Then you have noticed that there has never been a foe of mine that I have not crushed.” Odin reclines in his seat, laying his arms on the armrest. “Never a fight where I have not come out victorious.”

“Of course, you would be hard pressed to meet a foe that is your match.” The dark-haired fae bares his teeth. “But it wouldn’t do for you to grow arrogant at your age,  _Father_ .”

The King stares back, unfazed by the barely hidden hostility. “Advice I can give back to you quite easily, child.”

They say nothing for a long time, even as conversations still go on around them.

They don’t blink, don’t look away, their eyes holding a silent conversation full of threats and promises.

Tony decides to break the tension, if only for his own sanity. “Uh… Lokes?” he asks, placing his hand on the fae’s arm, “I have no idea what half this food is, could you explain?”

Loki almost jumps at the physical contact, his head snapping to look straight at Tony with wide and intense eyes. For a second, the human almost believes he will get yelled at for interrupting, but then the fae’s face softens entirely. “Of course, Anthony,” he agrees, softly, pleasantly, and begins to describe every dish much more patiently than Tony could have hoped.

If the human catches Odin looking at the two with a smile, well, he decides not to think about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The feast lasted a fucking long time, Tony thinks as he painfully makes his way back to their room. It had been fine in the beginning; although many fae were still curious about the human that ate with them, Loki’s display of protectiveness kept their approaches about as safe and as polite as they can be, which isn’t nearly as much as it would be in human society. At some point Volstagg had enchanted his drink to taste so incredibly salty Tony almost gagged. The fat fae had laughed very loud, then sputtered in turn when Tony had poured the rest of his cup through his open mouth. That little act of revenge had been cheered, and as he sat back down Loki rewarded him with one big mirthful grin.

So yeah, the beginning was fine. The trouble was the middle, when an “unexpected drinking contest” actually happened. Tony, of course, wanted in.

He was eliminated about forty-five minutes later after who knows how many drinks (Loki probably does, the asshole has been snickering the entire time, especially when Tony lost the ability to form proper sentences around drink ten). His disqualification had been announced when he started lacking the muscle coordination to bring the cup to his lips. He had accepted it gracefully - as graceful as one can be when one is that drunk - satisfied that he had at least beaten four fae at the table. He had decided to sober up by watching the remaining contenders continue with the contest, which dragged on and on and on and on. At some point Tony took a legitimate nap on Loki’s shoulder. By the time he woke it, it still wasn’t fucking over.

Eventually though, even fae get bored or full, so the crowd had eventually parted, though not before the King and Queen had safely left the premise. Tony had still been too tired to move properly, so that is how he has ended up being all but carried back to their room by Loki.

Then they met Thor in the hallways, and the embarrassment had quickly woken him up.

“He truly is punny, brother,” Thor comments, and somehow it is still goodnaturedly. “What use could you possibly have for him?”

“Really, Thor,” Loki groans, “you will have to try harder than that!”

Thor laughs, and claps Loki’s shoulder with his hand. “I shall not try again to pry anything from you again, for I know a fruitless endeavor when I see one.”

“Good, so it’s not just me,” Tony pipes up.

The blond turns towards him. “You should be merry, mortal. My brother has lavished you with more attention than he grants most of our kin.”

“Yeah, I feel so privileged I can hardly contain myself.”

“Aye, he takes care in entertaining you. I have heard my brother regal you with tales of our father’s bravery!” Thor boast. “Are they not inspiring, mortal man?”

“Uh, yeah, forgive me for not being too inspired by a serial kidnapper -ow!” He glares at Loki for pinching his arm so tightly, and finds that Loki is giving him a venomous look in turn.

Thor just look confused. “Kidnapper? I do not…”

“Baby-snatcher, child-thief, whatever rocks your boat. All those human children you take to make nice little fae!”

“Peace, brother,” Loki intervenes, “fatigue and wine have taken their toll on the mortal, there is no need to pursue this line of inquiry.”

Thor shakes his head. “Nay, brother, I would correct this misunderstanding.” The blond turns back towards Tony. “You speak of nonsense. Humans are not fae, as fae are not humans.”

“Then where the hell do all those children come from, huh, big guy?”

“From Midgard, of course.”

That… is not the answer Tony was expecting. He gapes, mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what Thor just said.“What? But you just… you admit they are human!”

“No, they are fae. They are the All-Father’s children, as he is father to us all.”

“That...that makes no sense,” Tony sputters. “You do realize that makes no fucking sense, right?”

“It is the truth.” Thor frowns. “I would have thought that Loki explained that to you. The title of All-Father is a serious one, just as the one of All-Mother is. They are are Father and Mother to all the fae.”

“How...No it… You and Loki look nothing alike!”

“We are not related by blood.”

“Yeah, right, you’re not, because you were all baby-snatched from Earth and then brainwashed by the All-Fucker…”

Thor growls, his eyes flash and the his muscles flex, effectively shutting Tony up. “Take care of how you speak! My father, the All-Father, is no man to be slandered and I will not…!”

“Peace, brother, peace,” Loki rushes in to hush him, putting one hand behind Thor’s shoulder, the other cupping his neck. “The mortal knows not of what he speaks, for the mead of the fae have proven far too potent for his human constitution.” He smiles, and chuckles fondly. “I am sure you are quite familiar with poor decisions made when the liquor takes hold.”

The friendliness and affection in Loki’s demeanor calm down Thor almost instantly. He chuckles in turn and grasps Loki’s neck in turn, so that the two of them are in a weird hug of brotherly love and neck fetish. “As familiar as you are, I am certain. You were always too prompt to shifts shape to solve your problems.”

“Well, it worked, did it not?” Loki replies smugly. “Besides, Sleipnir is a wondrous horse.”

“Father’s favorite,” Thor agrees. He leans forward to kiss Loki on the head. “You should take the human back to your chambers, brother. He needs to rest.” He turns to look disapprovingly at Tony. “You should not partake so if you are so thoroughly affected, unless you can accept the consequences.”

Tony gulps. “Yeah...ok, will do…”

Seemingly satisfied, Thor nods before walking away. Tony and Loki watch him go silently.

“You are a foolish individual, Stark.” Loki’s murmur cuts through the silence.

“Yeah, well deal,” Tony says back. He is still looking at the now empty hallway. “Were you ever going to want to talk about it again?”

“I had honestly hoped that these busy past weeks would have driven the subject out of your mind,” Loki shrugs. “But now I have little hope that you will let me evade one more time.”

“So…. Care to explain the mother of all cognitive dissonance I’ve just witnessed?”

“There is little to explain,” Loki states as he walks towards their chamber’s doors. “Thor, like almost every fae, believes three things: one, that the children stolen all come from Midgard. It is a known fact after all, since the Einherjar are the ones that carry out that task and they are difficult not to notice.”

“Can’t imagine the armour helps,” Tony snarks as the fae holds the door open for him. He enters the room quickly, going straight for the bed so that he can lay on it.

“It is heavy when it suits them, and light as air when needed,” Loki’s voice reaches him as the fae closes the door. “Secondly, all the children here are fae, and as they are fae they cannot be human.”

“So, he thinks the children are born fae and are taken here,” Tony states, trying very hard to reason through this. He looks at the dark-haired man for confirmation.

“No.”

“But….”

“You seek logic where there is none, human. The children stolen are human, the children here are fae. these two facts coexist in every fae’s mind, added to the third that the King is the father to us all, yet none of us are related by blood.”

Tony blinks. “But...it makes no sense…”

Loki smiles humorlessly. “Those are the rules.”

“The rules are stupid.”

“So they are in most games. Why do Midgardian children heed the words of “Simon”, and only when his name is invoked? Why does one child chase another, until a hand brushes against a back and the chaser becomes the chased? There is no logic to these rules, they just are. And no one questions them.” He shrugs. “It is not so different here.”

The comparison is more than shaky, but Tony guesses it would fit a race who only operates in games and rules. That doesn’t make the situation any less nonsensical. “If those are the rules, then how come you do not believe them?”

“I am a great sorcerer.” At Tony’s incredulous look, Loki sighs, rubbing his forehead. “You could not possibly fully comprehend, but magic is deeply based on imagination. Can you conceive that there would be a flame within your palm? What if there were an invisible wall, that shielded you from all weapons and spells? Of course, talent, discipline, precision all have a part to play in one’s abilities, but magic is only truly limited by the caster’s imagination.”

“I am greedy, Anthony, and constantly dissatisfied. I always dream of what more I could obtain, and how the world should be to suit me better. Isn’t little wonder, then, that I can wield workings so well? All the great sorcerers were like me, although some more benevolent than I am, that I will freely admit. It is that dissatisfaction, that imagination, that allows us to eventually… question the rules as they are.”

Tony takes it all in silently, mulling over what he has just learned. “So… Thor and all couldn’t question them because they are too happy with the way things are?”

“Indeed.” Loki sighs. “I did not lie to you that day in the park. Had someone overheard you, had you pushed that reasoning to far, you would have been an irritant that would disrupt their life of indulgence and leisure.” He gives him a pointed look. “Irritants are quickly dealt with.”

“Yeah, okay, got it now. Thanks for shutting me up...I guess.”

“I do need you alive.”

“I’m taking back my thank you.” He hesitates, unsure if his remaining questions would prove too prying. “So when did you find out?”

“Oh, perhaps two centuries ago?” Loki shrugs. “It was hardly dramatic. I simply had questions, and when my doubts overpowered my playfulness…”

“Is that what we’re calling “disproportionate need to fuck with people” now?”

“When that happened I followed an Einherjar, from the moment he entered the human household till the moment he placed the babe he took in the care of a nursemaid. Afterwards I studied that child carefully for years, witnessing the transition myself.” He waves his arm in the typical “there you have it” gesture. “The conclusion was simple enough.”

“Oh.” Maybe he should feel sorry for Loki, Tony reflects. After all, his entire worldview must have shattered in that moment, centuries of lies discovered in one of the worst ways possible. However, Loki seemed very calm when relating that story, bearing some sort of cold carelessness that Tony cannot truly understand.

He tries, though. “Aren’t you sad about the implications?” Tony asks quietly. “Is that why you want to kill him, because if every fae is a human child that was stolen…”

“Then that means I was a human child as well? That I was stolen as well?” Loki finishes for him. He shrugs. “It is of little important. I am what I am, I am fae, I enjoy my life. Whatever happened during the brief time I was human is of little concern to me.” He chuckles ruefully. “I know it is not what you wish to hear, but it is as it is.”

He hesitates then, looking away for half a second. “Does that..does it make me repulsive in your eyes?”

Tony looks at him for a moment, genuinely unsure of his answer. Eventually though, he sighs. “Nah, guess not. I can’t blame you, can I? I mean, you may know you were human, but you’ve never truly experienced it. I just didn’t expect for you to be so cool with being lied to.”

 “Oh, I do despise those lies,” Loki agrees. “However, I find that despite my initial rage I can forgive them, for they do not concern me any longer now that I am enlightened.”

“Then why?” Tony asks finally. “Why do you want to be King? It can’t be because you are unhappy here. You have a great life, by your standards. What is there to be gained?”

Loki looks at him, and his gaze is the most serious Tony has ever seen it. Solemn, but with a hint of viciousness and undeniable resolve. “In a Realm based on lies, I would be the deceiver rather than the deceived.”

There is really nothing more to be said.

Tony steps into the bathroom, and after getting changed into his night clothes he splashes some water on his face before looking at himself in the mirror.

His eyes look a shade golder than usual, he notices, as if the apples that he eats so regularly have started to bleed their color into them. Probably the case, actually.

He wonders what else of Asgard has bled into him. How long has it been since he stepped out of that bathtub? More than a month, he is sure, maybe even two. All that time spent almost constantly in Loki’s presence, except when he was working in the lab. How much has the fae rubbed off on him?

Two months ago, even at the beginning of his stay, he would never have been able to… accept what Loki’s is saying the way he does. But now, after spending so much time in his company, he understands, almost.

Loki is not being malicious, or even purposefully cold. It is just something all fairies share, the utter lack of regret. It makes sense, in a way: if everything is a game, then why feel guilt about what you do? Why regret your actions, since it is just a game and there will always be another to play?

Maybe a decent human being wouldn’t be so understanding. Maybe they would rage, stomp, demand that it all stops and feel ill at the very thought. They would most likely decry Loki as a monster.

Tony is incapable of thinking of Loki that way, he realizes belatedly. More than that, he actually likes the guy. He made peace with that some time ago.

When he gets back to the room, he finds Loki already in the green robe he wears to bed. He is sitting on a chair book in hand. The human would have believed he is reading if it weren’t for the way his eyes just stare straight ahead rather than move right to left.

He moves quietly to stand behind him.

“You’re not going to stop kidnapping children, are you?” Tony asks quietly. “When you’re king?”

Loki doesn’t look at him when he answers. “It is the way of the fae, Anthony,” he murmurs.

Tony nods. “I get that, in a way. I hate it, but I understand.” If that is the way the fae perpetuate their race, than he can never expect them to stop. But maybe… “Just...could you maybe choose… I don’t know, children in abusive homes, or abandoned, or…” he trails off.

It’s not a good solution, not by a long shot. But it’s still  _something_ . At least, when Tony goes back to Earth, he will have the satisfaction that Loki will not cause parents to wake up one night to find their child missing.

Just that.

“It is not part of our agreement,” the fae murmurs. He is not disapproving or even defensive, though, so Tony goes on.

“Please, Loki.” He can see him hesitating, although his expression remains perfectly neutral. “For me, please.”

He hadn’t meant to say that last push. He cringes, certain that any second now Loki would turn towards him and mock his sentimental plea. He tries to ignore the twinge of hurt he feels at his thought.

And then Loki’s hand slowly reaches out to take his, and the fae turns towards him fully, but instead of a cynical expression the man is looking at him softly. “This demand…. It is important to you?”

Tony swallows. “Yeah.”

Loki smiles then. “I cannot claim to care about such distinctions. But, if you ask,” the fae squeezes his hand, “then I find that I do it gladly.”

Almost instinctively, Tony’s hand squeezes back.

They stare at each other for a very long time, it feels like. Tony is in no rush to look away.

That night, lying in bed with Loki’s sleeping form facing him, he has the oddest urge to reach out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He has a reason to kill the King now, at least.

He never truly minded making weapons for Loki: it’s Tony’s business, after all, and after the first few days in Asgard he had become fairly certain that Loki wouldn’t install some reign of terror.

Now though, Loki being King means a better deal for humans at large. At least, a not so shitty one.

So it’s with a somewhat renewed determination that he gets back to work on his projects. After much deliberation with Loki, the two of them had agreed on a spear for the fae. Although Loki is very good with daggers, a throwing weapon seemed unpractical, especially considering there were high chances he would be unable to summon it back to his hand.

He makes the frame gold, of course, with a sharp curved tip that could probably do a mean stab. It’s impressive looking, but the true feat of this weapon lies in the blue stone that lies on top.

Tony has no idea what the metal Loki brought back is, some sort of substitute for palladium from its properties. Whatever its nature, it allowed him to create the greatest power source ever known to man. If Tony’s calculations are correct, and they are because he is Tony Stark and he never gets these things wrong, then this could double as the deadliest of bombs as well as the power source for an his entire industry, or even entire cities.

It is, without of doubt, his greatest work. So of course, he uses it to power what is going to be his second greatest creation. All in all, his work is going smoothly, and is especially enjoyable when Loki joins him in the lab.

Since their intense conversation that night after Thor left, Loki seems to have changed. Despite having confessed not to care too much about which children get stolen, Tony cannot help but see him as..more human. Maybe because that was the first time he didn’t see Loki the performer, be it as an entertainer or as a menacing figure. Instead, Tony had seen him hesitant and brutally honest. He knows very well that Loki could have lied to him, could have told him exactly what he wanted to hear. The fact that he didn’t is a mark or respect.

So yeah, ever since that conversation, Tony feels like he is seeing more of Loki. More honest, more genuine when he smiles, and of all things great to have around in the lab.

The fae somehow has an innate knowledge of when quips are acceptable and when to stay silent. When they do talk, he is surprisingly inquisitive, and for once when Tony receives questions about his work he knows it is not out of politeness, but out of a genuine desire to learn.

Better yet is that Loki understands what Tony is saying, without any dumbing-down or any approximation. It makes Tony’s heart soar, because he enjoys talking about these things, but couldn’t for such a long time because the only response he would get is a kind but confused smile.

When he isn’t working Loki shows him around the city. The fae have long since gotten used to Tony being around. Apparently, a few weeks without anything coming out of his arrival have been enough for them to decide that he is no longer interesting. It suits Tony just fine, because being the center of attention is only fun when they isn’t a considerable chance of ending up dead because of it.

When they go out, Loki inevitably shows his some magical construct or artefact, and then watches for hours as Tony’s mind just boggles at them. The human will ask questions then, trying to break it all down to hard science, and Loki never gets tired of answering. Their roles are reversed, until next time when they are both in the lab again.

So, yeah, Tony is having fun, and as usual he doesn’t question things too much when he is enjoying himself. He doesn’t keep track of how long it’s been on Earth, and doesn’t think too hard about what’s going to happen once the weapons are actually complete. There seems little point in ruining a good thing.

All in all, everything is going fine.

Until that incident happens, which Tony totally should have seen coming.

Ever since his arrival in Asgard, Tony hasn’t had much trouble with the fae, barring the occasional mostly harmless prank, which he has mostly been getting even on thanks to Loki’s assistance. Nothing serious, really, so of course it couldn’t have lasted forever.

Something was bound to give, and it does one day as Tony is in the arena hanging out with Thor’s friends. It is a rather awkward situation, and one he had absolutely no part in. It’s just that Loki had to leave for some reason, and then Thor left to do something, Tony wasn’t paying attention, and it resulted in him now trying very hard not to engage too closely with the four remaining fae for various reasons.

Well, not all of them. Hogun is cool. He doesn’t talk much, doesn’t do much, and seems perfectly happy just hanging around and chillin. With a frown on his face. Weird, but no problems there.

Volstagg is also fine. Not too aggressive when he talks, kind of like Thor is he were a more fatherly type. His favorite subject of conversation is food, of course, something Tony is very well-versed on since he spends most of his life travelling around the world for business dinners and fancy cocktails.

Fandral is where it starts getting problematic. The guy just doesn’t want to take no for an answer, and while the constant smiles and dragging looks had been flattering at first, now they are just plain annoying and creepy. Tony has been toying with the idea of setting Loki on him, and despite the near-certainty that Loki is going to demand some form of payment, it is looking more and more appealing with each passing day.

However, the worst, by far, is Sif.

“Surely, as his lover, he tells you of his machination,” she insists, as if they first hundred of times Tony denied any knowledge of what Loki would be planning. Like a blood-hound, she refuses to just let go of her trail.

It’s annoying, and because she is actually right, it is also doing very bad things for Tony’s nerves.

“Look, have you met the guy? Do you really think he’s the pillow-talk type?” Not that he would know, since they don’t do  _that_  sort of thing, but Tony just knows that Loki would be very vocal during and not afterwards. Not that he thinks about it. Often.

“Oh, I do not doubt he makes use of his tongue,” Fandral intervenes, “one way or the other.”

Tony is not even remotely surprised. “Cute.”

Sif presses on. “He schemes, I know he does.”

“Well, of course he schemes, he is Loki,” Fandral points out. “Always ten plans and tricks on his mind.”

“This is different,” she answers darkly. “I know it is.”

“How so?” Volstagg asks. Tony feigns irritated disinterest even as he warily awaits her answer.

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “I just know this is no mere trick.”

“What else could it be?” the big man asks, genuine confusion in his tone.

“You should be careful, Sif,” Fandral says playfully, “continue this crusade and people will believe you as sore a loser as…”

“As myself?” a voice interrupts.

They all turn towards the source to find a man standing only a few feet away. Tall, not as muscular as Thor but still ripped, much older looking than most fae Tony has seen. That’s partly due to the short grey hair, but mainly because the usual shine that is found in a fae’s eyes seems somehow duller in his.

“Tyr,” Sif greats with nod. “It has been a long time since you last came to these grounds.”

“And what a shame that is,” Fandral adds, sounding much too contrite to be sincere. “Why, I am quite certain there are still some toddlers you could reasonably challenge to a duel.”

He laughs at his own joke, completely ignoring Sif’s disapproving glare.

“Come now, friend,” Volstagg speaks up, sounding exactly like a teacher Tony once had who had tried to convince him to play with others, “surely Lord Tyr is still capable of victory over some despite his crippling disability.”

Tony has no doubt the guy had only good intentions, but even so he cannot help but wince at how his conciliatory gesture came out. Whatever disability he is talking about, there is just no way the grey-haired fae will appreciate it being used in the same sentence as “crippling”.

Sif looks even more sullen than before, if it is at all possible. Tyr himself looks ready to throttle Volstagg, his hand twitching…

Oh,  _hand_.  As in, he only has one, on his right arm. The left one is ended by a metal prosthesis of sort, more like a sculpture than anything else. It is clearly meant as more of an esthetical covering than anything else.

“The truth is, my Lords,” Tyr grinds out, “I do not pursue battle because I have yet to… properly finish my last joust.”

“You are a poor player,then.” Fandral quips. Tyr grits his teeth, which reminds Tony of just how grave an insult that is here. “That battle is long past, and the victor has long been decided.”

“Decided by whom?” Sif’s voice is a mixture of outrage and disdain. As she speaks she moves towards Tyr in solidarity. "Fools, who do not recognize a cheater when they see one.”

Tony freezes at that. He has spent enough time in fairyland to recognize important keywords when he hears them.

Cheater. Shit. What did Loki do  _now_ ? Or then, or whenever?

Whatever it is, can it please not fall back on Tony now?

“This is Prince Loki’s human, is it not?” Tyr asks with a jerk of his head, giving Tony’s question an unequivocally negative answer.

“Uh, yeah…” he answers, gulping, before berating himself. Seriously, he is Tony Stark, he isn’t going to let himself be bullied by a middle-aged fairy! “Tony, nice to meet you,” he states more boldly, squaring his shoulder.

“Tyr,” the man answers with a tilt of his head, stepping closer. “But you already knew that.”

“Well, yeah, I gathered. Genius, did you know?”

“I did not.” Tyr keeps on stepping closer, and if Tony had any sense of self-preservation he would probably back away, or better yet, leave. He doesn’t, of course. “Although I must say, I must put that fact in doubt when you so freely associate yourself with our  _honored_  Prince.” The disdain in his voice as he stresses the compliment tells Tony everything he needs to know about the fae’s opinion of Loki.

“Yeah, well, I’ve always been a sucker for cheekbones.” The genius raises his arms slightly in the universal gesture of “what can you do?”.

“Yet he leaves you unattended. Perhaps his interest in you is wavering?”

“Loki and I are doing just fine, thank you!” Tony snaps. The comment has sparked a surge of irritation, almost anger, much more intense that what would be considered reasonable. Then again, who the hell does this asshole think he is, to say that Loki is getting bored with him? He’s Tony Stark, he’s the most fascinating guy anyone will ever meet.

And Loki is not bored with him, and not just because they still have a contract.

Tony’s prickliness must have been the reaction Tyr was gunning for. The fae grins, suddenly looking much more vicious. “I am glad to hear that.”

His whole demeanor screams “challenge”, and there is little that can wrile Tony up more than a guy who thinks he’ll get the better of him. So he shrugs, fakes a yawn, puts on his best disinterested attitude, the kind he usually only uses on Stern.“Look, it’s not that I don’t dig this whole “vaguely threaten the human” schtick you have going on. Saw it in a B-movie once or ten times, has it’s charm. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. Whatever Loki did to your hand, I…”

He startles back as sword stabs the wall just next to his neck, going straight through stone to remain embed inside. He looks back up to see Tyr towering over him, his dim eyes finally glowing, although that could be because of rage more than anything else.

Tony doesn’t take his eyes off of the fuming fae, but his peripheral vision still picks up the sword next to him vanishing into golden dust.

Magic, right. Shit.

He had forgotten for a second, but he is hopelessly outgunned here. No matter how smart he is, there is not much he can do against anyone here. At least not until his weapons are complete.

“So, he has told you then,” Tyr growls. He’s so close Tony can feel his breath on his face. He is this close from making some sort of joke about the smell or whatever, but even he has his minutes.

“What? No he hasn’t. I just gathered. I mean, you know the guy, right? I mean, your obvious dislike of him and that nice sculpture you have there, I assumed he is behind it. They sort of go  _hand   in  _ _hand_  .”

Tony Stark is a genius, but he is not always a smart man.

Tyr snarls, punching the wall next to Tony, and oh, look at that, he doesn’t even need a sword to make a crack in it, good for him. “You think yourself clever, just like he does. Arrogance that comes only from the lowest of souls.”

“Hey, look, I get that losing a hand is a bummer, but…”

“It is a fair price for any true player,” the fae interrupts, fuming. “But to have it taken by a cheater, by rule-spurning  _scum_? That I refuse to recognize, ever.” The bitterness in his voice speaks of years of frustration. If Fandral’s reaction is anything to go by, the man has probably been denouncing Loki for a long time, only to be dismissed as a sore loser, and become the laughing stock of a good chunk of the population.

The worst part is that Tony is more than willing to believe that Loki did cheat, probably does so regularly.

He just never gets caught.

“Look, maybe you should take it up with Loki, cause…”

“Oh, I did confront the prince, little mortal,” the fae interrupts him again, voice deadly calm this time. “Do you know what his reply was?”

Nothing good, Tony’s sure.

“You should not have left your belongings lying around, Lord Tyr, for that is how they get damaged” Tyr answers his own question with a growl. “A fair piece of advice, I find. Therefore, it is only fair that I should educate him in return when he makes that same mistake, is it not?”

Tony gulps, looks at the four fae to find some indication that they will help him out, all the while not believing he will. If they had any intention of stepping in, they would have by now.

And indeed, all he sees is Hogun’s perpetual poker face and Fandral and Volstagg nodding in approval at Tyr’s words. Sif looks almost happy.

“Hey, look, I probably wasn’t even born at the time,” he blurts out, voice dangerously close to a squeak, “so there is really no need to…”

No need for what? He honestly has no idea what Tyr wants to do to him. Hopefully, just punch him a couple times. That’d be nice; he could handle that. Loki could probably heal him afterwards anyway, or just shove several apples down his throat. Tony will most likely not be in any state to chew.

That is assuming of course that Tyr will contain himself to a simple beating, and that just isn’t guaranteed at all. If the guy were human, sure, he’d totally be the type to work his anger through his fists. He is a fae though, so if Tony had to bet on anything it would be more along the lines of poetic justice, dramatic irony and oh god, Tony is going to get maimed isn’t he??

Tyr’s fingers flex, making Tony wince despite himself. He’s got nothing except a lab full of not-yet-finished weapons at the best of time these days, and those aren’t going to help him right now.

He is fucked.

He closes his eyes tight, bracing himself for whatever is going to come.

Hopefully it will be quick.

Do they have healthcare in fairyland?

A loud scream followed by a tug around his waist was not at all in the realm of what he expected though, so when he feels himself being yanked back his eyes fly open and a yelp escapes him. The world blurs around him for a few seconds as he is being very quickly pulled away, and when he regains his bearing he finds himself held tightly against Loki’s chest.

Against a very angry Loki’s chest.

He looks up at the fae, but Loki isn’t paying any attention to him. His eyes, greener and more glowing than Tony has ever seen them, are promising bloody murder to Tyr, his breathing is barely controlled, his mouth twisted in a grimace that conveys both aggression and a slight trace of satisfaction.

Looking back at the grey haired man, Tony understands a lot more.

Tyr’s remaining hand now has a very distinctive dagger running straight through it. Blood - also red for fae, Tony notes stupidly, good to know - runs heavily along his fingers, already forming a small puddle on the floor. He probably moved to grab his wrist as a reflex, but the metal hand at the end of his left arm doesn’t allow for any grip, so it just sort of rests heavily a little bit above the wound. He is glaring at Loki as well, his cheeks red with both anger and humiliation.

No one says a word for a long time, not until Loki manages to force out a polite if icy laugh. “Again, Lord Tyr?” His voice is barely restrained as his grip around Tony tightens. “You leave your hand where it should not be, and another accident happens.”

The grey-haired fae says nothing, because really, what is there to say?

“I would have thought you would know better by now,” he continues, eyes narrowing in menace, “but perhaps some lessons take time to learn?”

Tyr opens his mouth to retort, closes it and storms away. For half a second Tony almost believes that he will purposefully bump Loki’s shoulder on the way out, but evidently vengeance does not make the man stupid.

The two of them watch him leave, Tony still reeling from what happened. He risks another glance at Loki, who is still ignoring him despite his hold on him not having loosened one bit. His narrowed eyes are still trained on the now almost-gone figure, in a look that Tony prays will never be directed against him.

“Well, if he did not admit defeat before, he certainly will now,” Volstagg comments, earning a snicker from Fandral and a glare from Sif. Hogun looks disapproving, but still says nothing.

Loki turns towards them, eyes flaring once more. “You!” he spits out, voice dripping with venom. “You would stand and do nothing.”

The group exchanges looks of surprise and incomprehension, and Fandral answers for all of them in a shrug that translates just how unreasonable he finds Loki. “Well, he isn’t  _our_  human.”

That snaps Tony out of his stupor. He glares at them. “Yeah, well guess what, you…”

The rest of what was going to be a scathing rant is drowned out by Loki’s snarl, and again Tony can feel the grip around him tighten. The sensation is made more uncomfortable still as he suddenly has the feeling of being sucked by a whirlpool. The world goes dark and when he sees again he is being all but shoved onto one of the couches in their chambers.

“Ow, what the hell was that for?!” he protests as he sits up. “And since when can you teleport?”

Loki doesn’t listen to him. Instead, he grabs Tony by the arms, pulling him closer until their faces are inches apart. “Are you injured?”

The transparent urgency in the fae’s voice stops Tony dead in his tracks, forcing simple honesty out of him. “I’m fine, he didn’t do anything.”

That doesn’t satisfy him. “Has this happened to you before?!”

“No, no, it hasn’t!” Tony denies quickly. “I’m not a helpless idiot, or a fucking martyr” he adds when Loki doesn’t release him, “I wouldn’t have just kept quiet about something like that. I would have told you, at the very least, then asked you to help me as I destroyed whoever responsible.”

That finally pulls a smile out of the fae. A shaky one more of relief than amusement, but there none the less. “Trust me, Anthony, I would have…”

He startles then, looks at Tony with wide, shaken eyes. The genius wants to ask what’s wrong, if somehow Loki got injured in the fray, but the sudden shift in mood has left him stupid, and by the time he manages to regain his bearings Loki’s expression has completely shut down, and he stands up.

“You should stay here and recuperate,” he says looking down at the human. The words are clinical and somewhat commanding, but there is none of the usual presence and confidence within his voice. “I will return when you are rested.”

“Wait, Loki!”

But the fae doesn’t listen, and Tony watches him leave through the doorway before he even has the chance to sit up.

He looks at the empty room for a while afterwards, clenching his fists to distract himself from the tightening in his chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Loki comes back the next morning, he lets out a sigh of relief.

When news comes through the hall that Tyr has somehow injured both his remaining hand and feet, he feels reassured and protected.

When night comes, more than wanting to reach out, he wants to huddle close to Loki and fall asleep snuggled in his warmth.

(He does that last one, actually, but only when he is certain that the fae is asleep. When they wake up in the morning he denies all conscious involvement, and accuses Loki of moving in his sleep.)

 

* * *

 

 

It takes a surprising amount of time for him to get a clue. Then again, Tony has always been kind of blind when it comes to that kind of area.

One evening he is almost done with Loki’s weapon, he invites the fae to test it out. After having cleared out a large surface within the lab, Loki starts practicing stabs, sweeps and hits, using it as a support to do some sort of sweeping jump, and all around looking unfairly graceful while doing it.

Tony watches from the side with glee, revelling in the pride of a well-made invention combined with the joy of seeing it so expertly used. Loki is clearly enjoying himself: his initial contemplative face when first picking up the spear slowly gives way to a large, pleased grin, and his moves grow faster and faster as he tests out the perfect balance and handiness of Tony’s creation.

After ten minutes of practice, he turns towards the human, smile wide and cheerful, eyes shining with satisfaction and an almost childish delight, and Tony realises right there and then that he wants to kiss him.

Oh fuck.

He wants to kiss him  _really_   badly.

Fuckity fuck.

On one hand, Tony wants to laugh at himself because  _of_ _course_   he has a crush on Loki, just what the hell did he think he was doing? He stealth cuddled, for fucks sake!

On the other hand, he is screwed.

It’s one thing to admit liking the guy. Tony can own up to it: Loki is funny, smart, can keep up with him intellectually in a way no one ever has before. Tony also knows that his stay in fairyland could have been absolutely horrible, but it hasn’t been, and that is all thanks to Loki.

There is also the whole child thing, which Loki did not need to accept at all and did anyway, and yeah, Tony was grateful and almost touched, even if many would argue that what they agreed to is less basic human decency.

Add to that that he apparently finds Loki very, very attractive, and oh fuck, he has it bad .

Loki is still looking at him with that beautiful smile, and Tony can feel his heart beating faster. He is suddenly hyper aware of the distance between the two of them, of how close he is to blushing right now, and he really, really hopes Loki doesn’t notice anything.

This is a whole new level of fuckery, because being friends with a sociopath? Fine, sure, they can have fun together, it’s not like Tony is condoning anything. But having a serious crush? He still isn’t condoning anything, but somehow it doesn’t seem nearly as acceptable.

There’s also the thing where their relationship started with Loki tricking him into helping him plan a murder, so yeah.

The worst part being that although he knows, intellectually speaking, that having a crush on Loki is not a good idea by any definition of the term, he finds that he doesn’t care nearly as much as he should. Like all those times he drove beyond the speed limit or got smashed at his father’s parties, acknowledging that it’s bad but not actually considering stopping.

“It is a remarkable weapon,” Loki in that velvet voice -fuck, he’s got it bad - as he sets the spear back down on the counter. “I commend you, Anthony.”

Seeing an out, Tony leaps on it. “Yeah, well, it’s not done yet, so I need to work on it,” he says in a rush. He takes Loki by the arm, dragging him towards the door. “So, out you go, need to work, bye bye.”

Thankfully, the fae lets himself be lead, although he does raise his eyebrow in a surprised amusement. “It is a sudden change of disposition. We were having such fun just earlier.”

“Yeah, well, science, what can I say?” He all but pushes Loki through the threshold. “Come back later, sometimes, I don’t know, see you later!” With that, he shuts the door on the fae’s face, before leaning his forehead against it.

Smooth Tony, really smooth.

He drags his feet back towards his own project, and tries to tinker to keep his mind far away from Loki and fucking crushes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t work too well, unfortunately, so he graduates from tinkering to full on binge-working, spending days at a time in the lab and pretending to be too distracted to notice when Loki enters. The only break he takes is for eating the meals that Loki brings him, because otherwise he is pretty sure that the fae would sit down with him and make him eat, and that is just too much direct interaction for him to handle right now.

Other than bringing him food though Loki seems to be taking Tony’s newfound isolation in stride, which is just great because that makes the human wonder if he even cares at all that Tony is all but shutting him out, which in turn puts him in a horrible mood and he is left obsessing over the fae’s lack of reaction like an overly emotional teenager.

Seriously, how the hell does this happen to him? He’s Tony Stark, he’s a playboy, he’s been voted the most eligible bachelor of the year for the past three years, he doesn’t… fucking  _pine_  over people!

He rubs his hands over his face, groaning in frustration.

He remembers watching a documentary a few years back, about women who are attracted specifically to assholes and criminals. Hybristophilia, he thinks it was called. Not that this applies to Tony, because really he is crushing (he shivers just thinking the word) on Loki despite the fae’s amorality. Or rather, despite the fact that he knows that such amorality should theoretically turn him right off.

But hey, it’s not as if Tony isn’t used to dealing with people like that. He entire business involves meeting generals and the heads of intelligence organisations, who go to him specifically to get the perfect armament for war and covert operations. And he’s not saying he would ever crush on any of them, but he would and has gone out to drink with them so hey, this isn’t all that different. Not at all. So no problem.

He groans. There is a reason he doesn’t do internal conflict. He’s Tony fucking Stark, and life is much better spent doing what he wants and dealing with the consequences later. He refuses to ruin a good thing.

He refuses, absolutely  _refuses_ , to feel guilty because he has...feelings for Loki. So what? It’s not like he owes anyone anything. He has already made his peace with killing psycho-fairies, and really it’s not like Loki is going to bring any more danger to humans than what is already happening. Hell, he’s actually going to compromise.

And really, it’s not like Loki is doing anything wrong by fae standards. At least, nothing illegal. It’s a different culture, plain and simple, so there is no use agonizing over it. No use, no point, so Tony’ not doing it.

He punctuates that thought with a sharper than necessary turn of his screwdriver.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s done. It’s done it’s done it’s done and it is beautiful!

Tony traces the smooth metal almost reverently, hands trembling from emotion as well as 50 straight hours without sleep.

Sleep, who cares about sleep, it gets in the way of science and beautiful pieces of technology. And look at it! Tony Stark, ladies and gentlemen, the greatest genius ever and oh, he should paint it gold! It would fit in with the decor!

That thought sends him dissolving into a fight of giggles. Heh, gold, cause there’s a lot of it in Asgard, get it?

He laughs some more.

“And what has gotten you so merry, Anthony?” Loki asks as he enters the lab.

Tony’s head shoots up. “Loki! Come see!”

The fae will love it, Tony just knows, and he’ll fully appreciate just how revolutionary this new creation of his is. One of the greatest in the History of mankind! Tony’s sure Loki would know, he’s been alive for most of it!

He giggles at his own thoughts once again. Admittedly, he is more than a little exhausted.

“I can only assume from your merriment that your creation has been successful,” Loki says with an amused smile. He turns his gaze towards the metal suit on display. “I confess, I have been eager to see the finished product. Some kind of armor, I take it?”

“Better than that, Bambi, so much better! Just look!” Tony steps forward to stand in front of the armor, and activates one of the several programs he has coded. Almost immediately, the mechanical arms in the lab flair to life, fitting each individual metal plate on his body, except for the face mask which Tony puts on himself. At that moment, the visual interface flares to life.

That last one is still a rather basic program, but oh, does Tony have plans for it! He’s had this idea for a while now, an Artificial Intelligence that would make Hal weep. It would complete the entire project, and oh the possibilities!

It’s possible he may have babbled that out loud, along with swooning at the thought, because next thing he knows he has stumbled into Loki’s arms, the fae keeping him from falling to the ground.

“It is impressive, Anthony,” the dark-haired man (pretty, pretty man) chuckles. “However, I cannot help noticing you have painted a fair part of it gold.”

“Yeah, but here it looks good. Restraint, coordination, no bling if it’s me who does it cause I know bling, and this isn’t bling. It’s what bling wants to be when it grows up.”

Loki frowns at his not-quite-incoherent speech. “How long has it been since you slept?”

“Sleep is stupid,” Tony mumbles into Loki’s chest, before frowning. Apparently, the suit has one major design flaw in that it keeps him from feeling Loki’s arms around him. His sleep-starved brain decides right there and then that that is simply unacceptable, because hugs from Loki are of the utmost priority and why is he still wearing the stupid armor anyway?

He activates the release mechanism, and watches the armor fold itself with immense satisfaction. He leans into Loki’s hold. “You should see the repulsors,” he mumbles, “and the targeting system. I’ll show you.”

Instead of answering, Loki merely picks him up and walks towards the cot in the corner of the lab. “Not now, I think,” Loki says quietly in that beautiful voice of his, sitting down. “You are exhausted, you need to rest.”

“You could magic me awake,” Tony says, but makes no actual effort to move from the fae’s hold.

“I cannot use magic on you, Anthony.”

“I give you special permission for this one,” he whispers with a yawn, letting his head fall back against the lean chest. In fact, his entire body relaxes as sleep is fastly creeping up on him.

“If you’d like, then,” Loki murmurs.

Tony waits, contently, breathing peacefully. Loki smells so nice, does he know that?

A hand comes to rest of his head, and oh, that feels like heaven!

After a few minutes, he reluctantly manages to mumble: “Wh’t you’re w’ting for?”

The arms around him tighten their hold, and Tony promptly forgets why he even asked in the first place. He simply allows himself to enjoy the moment as he drifts into sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He really must have been completely exhausted, because he sleeps through most of the next day. At some point Loki laid him down on the bed, fully clothed, and just left him to rest.

When Tony wakes up, he finds Loki sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He smiles a little, a hint of sleep still tinting his expression. “Hey, Lokes.”

“Anthony,” Loki acknowledges, looking up. He had been looking at a golden apple in his hand, Tony realizes, although he doesn’t understand why.

“Why didn’t you magic me awake?” he asks softly, more because he wants to just say something rather than out of a true desire to know.

“I did not wish to.”

The answer is spoken barely above a whisper, and then the room dissolves into silence once more. Loki’s eyes are on him, green and shining and so, so bright, and Tony can feel himself blushing.

He remembers last night, remembers arms hugging him and a hand stroking his hair, remembers a special sort of fondness in Loki’s voice that his sleep deprived brain hadn’t been able to pick up, but that now seems so clear in retrospect.

So many things are clearer in retrospect.

He gulps, once, twice, wants to get up and walk straight to Loki.

He doesn’t move.

“Tomorrow, we begin,” the fae says, to no one in particular, although his eyes never leave Tony.

Tomorrow the assassination starts, and then if all goes well his deal with Loki will have ended, and he’ll go back to Earth.

He’ll probably never see Loki again after that.

That thought shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but then again, those stupid feelings of his haven’t been making things easy for him lately.

And still, no one is talking, and Tony wants to say something,  _anything_ , except that he’s scared that if he does he will shatter whatever is between them right now, and he doesn’t want that to happen just yet.

But the tension between them is so thick something,  _someone_  is going to have to give out.

And, surprisingly, it is Loki who does so first.

“Were I to do as I wish right now,” he says almost in wonder, “I would have you tied to the bed, and feed you this apple piece by piece, and when the juice spills and pours down you neck I would lick the trail back up until I could claim your mouth.”

Oh.

Okay.

The fae walks towards him slowly, like a panther, and Tony is sitting on the bed stupidly not even moving and oh, look at that, Loki is towering over him now.

“I would have you moan my name,” he continues, leaning forward as he settles himself on the edge of the bed “in ecstasy, in supplications, in every way you knew how until all you would have left would be my name and the plea for more.”

“I would have you want me, Anthony, with a burning desire whose intensity matches my own. And oh, Anthony, is my desire ever great!” he whispers, face so close to Tony’s the human can feel his breath brushing on his skin. “Would you let me?”

“Loki…” Tony whimpers, because he cannot manage anything more, not with those shining green eyes looking straight into his.

“Would you let me?” Loki repeats, leaning closer still. He is looming over Tony now, hands on each side of the inventor’s face. Tony unconsciously raises his head up, towards those lips that are still pouring words. “I find that is the crux of all my fantasies: your desire, your passion, all for me. That the pleasures you take would all be given by Loki, and that you would care for none other. How strange,” he muses with a smirk, “that you should be the first one in centuries to inspire such feelings.”

“I’d let you,” the human breathes out. “I’d want it.”

The answer is sincere, yet Loki still doesn’t seem satisfied. “But would you want  _me_ ? I know of the loneliness that can affect humans when they are too long deprived of such pleasures. If it is release you want, a mere night of dalliance, then I am certain Fandral would be most happy to provide.” The words are said with a bitterness that seems to surprise Loki, for he startles before smiling ruefully. “So uncertain, so hesitant, I have never known myself capable of such timidity.”

“I like this side of you,” Tony confesses, because it was the first glimpse of this particular Loki that sent him spiralling in this circle of uncomfortable feelings and self-doubt.

The fae’s lips twitch in the beginning of a smile before he laughs self-deprecatingly. “You flatter, and I am content. You do not recoil, and I find myself filled with hope. Is it not pathetic?” He shakes his head, as if to try to clear his thought. It doesn’t seem to work, as when he resumes speaking his tone his eyes look almost feverish. “I admire your character, take delight in your mind, and would prove my veneration of your form with the skills of a thousand years. However, permanently dissatisfied creature that I am, I would not have you for one night, but for many more afterwards.”

He frowns, lips pursing in complete distastes. His entire demeanor switches, and when he speaks again it is with a vicious and desperate glare. “How do you do it Stark? How do you make a Prince a beggar, how do you make a silver tongue turn to lead, how do you make me, who will gladly face an army in order to kill my King tomorrow, tremble in front of a mere human?”

Tony’s first reaction is to laugh, because it seems that Tony wasn’t the only one dealing with unwelcome questions about his character and that knowledge is immensely satisfying. His second reaction is to get angry, because Loki isn’t dealing with shit apart from his own pride so how dare he act so wounded when Tony is the one questioning his own morality!

The frustration is what shines through. “I don’t know, Lokes,” he bites out, “probably the same way you make me crush on a psychopathic, insane fae who has dragged me along in his revolution. The same way I actually like you now, in a way that goes beyond all logic despite your killer eyes and cheekbones. So don’t you dare act all prissy about how I fucked with your life when you did the same to me twice over and I’m not even fucking mad about -”

Loki’s lips crash against his own, swallowing up whatever objection Tony had left. Not that it matters, he was almost past the point of coherency.

The kiss is harsh and bruising, like Loki isn’t sure if he wants to devour or bit Tony. That suits the human perfectly: he has his own frustrations to work through. Namely that he wants this  _so_ badly, more than he has wanted anyone in a long time.

He doesn’t want Loki to be a one-night stand. He doesn’t want it them to be fuck-buddies. He wants something more, and of course it would figure that the first person Tony wants any sort of relationship with would be a fairy from another world, and that it would all burst just minutes before their attempted regicide.

The one consolation he has is that Loki is just as screwed as he is.

Loki pulls back from the kiss, panting, pupils blown wide and staring at Tony in wonderment. Tony stares right back.

They are both hard now, their erections straining against their clothing. Loki feels Tony’s, of course, and with one toothy grin he grinds his hips against it, making the human gasp.

“Oh, Anthony,” he purrs, “you have little idea of how I have longed for this.”

“Then show me,” Tony groans, bucking up to accentuate his point.

Loki’s eyes gleam at those words, and without further notice he pounces on this human, ripping of both T-shirt and pants. Tony would protest, really, except that Loki’s mouth has started attacking his neck, his hands roaming along his sides and chest, and all he can do really is moan and arch into the touch.

He can feel the fae smirk against his neck, smug bastard. Again, Tony is about to make a snarky comment in retaliation only to have Loki cutting him off by reaching between Tony’s legs and stroking, making the human buck into his hand.

“Oh, so eager, so demanding,” the fae tuts. “Were I free to use my magic with you, I would have you bound, limbs tied to the four corners of this bed. I would take my time, ravish every inch of your body whilst you could do naught but mewl and beg. Alas,” he sighs, “we do have a deal.”

Tony is this close to saying fuck to the deal, let Loki do exactly what he wants because every word coming out of that man’s lips is making his cock twitch and grow, but the one functioning brain cell he has left reminds him that giving up on his deal with a fae may not be wise in the long term.

Time for plan B then.

He pushes himself up, and thanks to the element of surprise manages to flip them over so that Loki is now pinned beneath him. Those green eyes look up at him, wide with surprise and no small amount of delight.

“Your clothes,” Tony growls. “Off, now.”

The breathless laughter Loki lets out is nothing short of exhilarated, and all his clothing vanishes in one wave of his hand. “Anthony,” he breathes out, “shall you take me?”

Yeah, that was the idea. Tony grabs the back of Loki’s head with one hand, claiming those lips for another kiss whilst his other hand trails downwards.

Reaching towards the fae’s entrance, he starts prodding and circling, only to feel his eyes widen in surprise at what he finds.

Loki catches his reaction, breaks the kiss and smiles lasciviously. “Oh, Anthony, did I not tell you how much I longed for you? Did you not believe me?” he purrs. “Shall I tell you then that this is not the first occasion I fit myself with such toys? That whilst you were busy tinkering away in your workroom I would be on my bed, working myself into a frenzy as I pushed and pulled some artificial length in me, all the while imagining that it was you ravishing me?” He grins as Tony’s pupils widen even more and his breath become more and more ragged. “Shall I confess that I have taken to filling myself with this plug every day, and as a walked around I would fantasize that it is your desire that filled me so?”

And that, that is just too much. Tony’s brain shuts down completely.

It takes him about three seconds to pull out the plug and ram himself into the fae. They both cry out, Tony something between a gasp and a shout, Loki absolutely cooing in delight.

He sets a pace, hard and fast and it’s… it’s perfect.

His face buried in the crook of Loki’s neck, the fae’s hands coming to tangle in his hair as words are whispered into his ear. Words of lust, of passion, of...of...

Tony almost sobs then, because Loki is praising him, calling him beautiful, wonderful, the most magnificent human who ever lived, and the words are so pure, so honest, that goes right into one of the deepest part of Tony’s heart. The part that craves acknowledgement, affection, the part that comes from the little boy who never seemed to make his father proud and who weeped when the beloved butler died too soon. The part that wants to be wanted, and more than his lust or his words, the fragility in Loki’s eyes as he approached Tony earlier that night tells him that Tony is very much wanted indeed.

It’s perfect, absolutely perfect, and Tony decides right there and then that fuck everyone else, fuck moral consideration and other people’s judgement. He is Tony Stark, he does what he wants, and what he wants is to keep this person who is both thrilling and breathtaking, whose words make his heart soar. Who makes Tony happy like he is now, who could make him even happier given time, of that he is certain.

Fuck them, fuck everyone else, he is not giving this up. Ever.

He needs Loki to know that, he thinks through the emotional haze of his thoughts. Needs him to  _know_ , because Loki is just as uncertain as he is and he just needs this.

So with tremendous effort he lifts his head up, finding Loki’s green eyes. He looks straight into them as he speaks in a hoarse voice. “I want to keep you.”

Green eyes widen, pale lips on paler skin part open, and Loki falls over the edge, his clenching and cry of Tony’s name taking the human with him.

They lay on the bed panting, Tony on top of Loki

Loki, it seems, has the same idea. He lowers himself on the bed, curling himself into a ball until his head is tucked into Tony’s neck. His arms go around the human’s waist, just as Tony’s hand instinctively finds it’s way to Loki’s hair, stroking gently.

This, this is perfect. This is tender and peaceful and if they are going to die tonight, then at least they would have had one moment like that. Just one.

Loki shifts slightly, moving his head just enough so that his voice is not muffled by Tony’s shoulder. “I feel as if I had lost the game, yet come back a triumphant victor,” he murmurs.

Tony cannot help the chuckle that escapes him. “That’s stupid,” he says affectionately. “We are so fucking stupid.”

He doesn’t have to look to know that Loki is smiling. “Aye, that we are.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Morning comes, eventually, and the two of them have to get up.

Today is the day.

The both prepare themselves silently, Loki slowly dressing and making practice moves with his staff, Tony doing final, unecessary checkups on his armor.

Blue gem on the tip of a scepter gleam; blue gem inside a chest plate lights up.

They stand, both of them armed and ready. They are going to kill a King.

Or die trying.

Tony looks at Loki, and decides that no, they won’t die. Loki won’t fail. He won’t fail.

He has made his peace with the rest.

Loki looks at him as well, silently, intensely. Then, in a display of affection that would have been unthinkable before last night, he pulls him tightly against his chest, kissing the top of his head.

“You need not come with me.”

That’s a lie, and they both know it. Loki needs Tony to tear down the wards, needs him to take out the guards along the way. Tony needs to be there for the plan to work, and Loki has no intent on backing down now.

Still, the sentiment is honest, and appreciated.

Tony smiles, and gently lays a hand on Loki’s arm. “We should get going, Lokes.”

Loki looks at him some more, before nodding once. Then he turns on his heels, and resolutely marches out the front door.

Tony follows.

 

* * *

 

 

So, apparently the first step of the Coup involves killing the Queen.

Tony isn’t sure he is okay with that. He has barely seen her, only from afar during feasts, but she looked… nice. There is no other way to say it. Smiling at everyone, looking lovingly at Thor and Loki in particular, and never once even attempting to mess with the human at the high table. Added to that are Loki’s stories and his clear love for the woman he calls his mother, and Tony has no idea why they are doing this at all, no matter how many reasons the fae has given him.

Most baffling though is that even as they were marching towards her chambers to kill her, Loki was going on and on about how dear she was to him, about how she always treated him as a son and about how much he owes her when it comes to the pursuit of magic. Even now, just in front of her door, he has a fond smile on his lips.

“Why are we doing this again?” Tony whispers.

Loki rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you boy, if their is to be a new All-Father, then all previous rulers must be gone. Otherwise, she would be a legitimate successor, and I could not claim the throne. I may be one of Odin’s favored, but the title of “Prince” is purely decorative. “All-Mother”, now that has a weight I cannot ignore.”

“So….every king killed not only his predecessors, but also his wife?”

“Or husband, or more,” Loki adds lightly. “King Oberon had three wives and seven husbands. The rise of a new king proved to be quite a messy endeavor.”

“Right…”

Fae. They will fuck with your mind.

And in Loki’s case, they will do it to distract you.

Tony catches Loki’s hand, raised a few inches above the door. The fae could rip it away at any moment, but he pauses, looking at the human.

“Loki,” Tony says quietly, not sure if he is pleading or reasoning, and on whose behalf, “you love the Queen.”

Loki holds his gaze for a moment, inclining his head with a rueful smile. “Yes, I do,” he agrees, “but what of it?”

He then knocks on the door, an apparently universal custom before entering a room. The door opens, and the Queen smiles at them. “Loki, Anthony! Do come in.”

So they do, of course, Loki politely thanking her and Tony not really capable of speech right now.

“Do sit down,” Frigga instructs. “I will summon for some drinks and food.”

“That will not be necessary, Mother,” Loki protests gently. “Anthony and I shall not be staying long.”

She acknowledges the comment with a nod, and the three of them settle down, Tony and Loki on a green couch and Frigga in front of them on a comfortable looking chair.

Tony feels like he is five years old again, visiting his grandmother’s home. It was uncomfortable then, it is thoroughly uncomfortable now.

“What can I do for you, my sweet boy?” Frigga asks with a smile.

Loki leans forward, almost conspiratorially, still smiling sweetly. “I came here to kill you.”

Tony nearly chokes on his own breath.

Frigga looks stunned. “So soon? I would have thought you would have waited another century at least.”

“Well, you did always call me precocious.”

She giggles, delightedly. “That I did, my dearest son!” She claps her hands together. “Oh, my Loki, it seems only recently that I taught you your first illusion.”

“I have much grown since.”

“Indeed! My boy…” She trails off lovingly. “Should you succeed, do you intend on remaining Loki?”

“What..?” That’s Tony, trying very hard to make sense of things. This entire conversation is so surreal he feels like he is dreaming.

Frigga completely misunderstands, willfully or not, and turns towards him to explain. “It is not uncommon for rulers to take on new names, or even several. My husband had been Wotan in the past, the same that I have not always been Frigga.”

Morbid curiosity makes him ask the obvious question. “What… was your name before?”

“Persephone.”

“Oh…”

“About that, Mother, I have always wondered,” Loki chimes in, “did you ever meet Uncle Zeus before the All-Father killed him?”

Frigga looks at him with exasperated fondness. “He is not your uncle, Loki.”

“The humans thought so.”

“The humans saw two men with white beards and drew a hasty conclusion.”

“Yeah, we… we tend to do that,” Tony intervenes pointlessly.

Frigga smiles indulgently at him before turning back towards Loki. “You haven’t answered my question, dearest.”

“I am quite content with Loki, although I do like the name Loptr, should my mind change. I shall think about it once I am on the throne.”

“If, darling, if,” Frigga chides. “Your Father may kill you first. He is just a spry as when we first met.”

Tony remembers the myth he had heard about when he was young, and he cannot help but ask.

“About that...Don’t you regret your human life, at all?” He really isn’t sure he really wants an answer to that question, but he kinda does because this conversation is so surreal and uncomfortable. He isn’t sure if he feels sorry for the woman, if he even should, really.

He gets his answer when Frigga answers with an almost girlish giggle. “Regret? What a silly thing to say! I am Queen of the Fae, what is there to regret?” she tuts gently, before looking at him with a gaze full of compassion. “Are you truly weighed by such a horrid feeling?”

Tony feels a little sick.

“Most humans are,” Loki chimes in. “I do not know how they stand it. I would have hated to know you burdened with such sadness.”

“I have never known sadness in my life.”

Tony blinks. “Not even when Odin All-Dick kidnapped you?”

“My husband has been most kind and attentive,” the Queen continues, completely ignoring him. “And what games we played when he tore away from his duties.” She turns towards Tony. “And never has there been a more fair player. Not even a protest or a frown when I had  Geirroð torture Grímnir in order to win our wager.”

“That’s nice of him,” the inventor answers weakly. He doesn’t know who the fuck does people are, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. The nice Queen is as fucking psychopathic as the rest of them. “So, no objections at all to what he did?”

“Really now, Anthony,” Frigga looks at him a look that is both tender and condescending. “The King can do as he likes.”

He feels an arm wrap around him, pulling him closer towards Loki, and he leans into the fae. The physical contact is a relief, something to ground him. He looks up at the dark-haired fae, and Loki’s answering look tells him that he knows how close Tony is to becoming a mess. He knows Tony needs this. He gently caresses Tony’s cheek with his hand, the gesture slow and soothing. Affectionate to, and that last one is what makes the human both calmer and so grateful at the same time.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so upset about this; after spending months in fairyland, he should be used to those things by now.

Actually, the scary part is that he is used to it, probably wouldn’t have batted an eye if Loki or anyone else here had made such comments. Hell, if it had been Loki, he would probably have snarked right back. And just like the rest here, he has been happily preparing to murder some of them. The only qualm he had was Frigga right here, and now he doesn’t even have that anymore.

He feels guilty about how not-guilty he feels. Fucking fantastic, totally makes sense, fairyland totally hasn’t made him go crazy.

Loki kisses the top off his head. “Do you need a moment, Anthony?” he murmurs against his hair.

Tony takes a deep breath, then shakes his head slightly. He’s as ready as he is ever going to be.

When he looks up, Frigga is smiling at them gently. “Oh Loki, it pleases me so that you have found someone to care for so deeply. There is no joy greater than to love wholly.”

Yeah, Tony thinks, so happy that you take the time to reassure the human before the two of you kill me.

Still holding Tony’s shoulder, Loki looks at her and smiles just as gently. “You do love the All-Father, don’t you?”

“Most ardently,” she nods.

“That is why I kill you first, Mother,” he says softly. “So that you do not see your beloved die, and never experience any pain in your life.”

“I have tried to escape many times during our conversation,” Frigga says thoughtfully. “But I can feel my magic locked away from me.”

“My wards, of course. No magic can be used in this room.” Loki picks up the staff he had set right at his side. “Fortunately, this is no magic.”

The Queen is positively beaming. “My clever boy!”

Loki grins in return, and then leaps. In a flash, he is in front of his mother, grabs the front of her dress to haul her up. A second later, the sharp tip slides right through her, smooth and slick and almost soundless.

The All-Mother barely has the time to look surprised or in pain before her eyes close and she slumps. She slides off the blade, landing on the floor. If it weren’t for the awkward angle at which her legs are bent under her and the red stain on her abdomen, she would look as if she were sleeping.

Loki walks towards the side of the couch, picking up one of the decorative blankets. He wipes his spear, removing all the blood on it, before looking back at what is now a corpse. He smiles fondly. “Oh Mother, I loved you so dearly.”

Tony says nothing.

“I had considered doing this without you, Anthony,” Loki confesses, turning towards him. “However, I thought you deserved full knowledge of what was to happen.”

“You could have just told me,” he mumbles.

Loki’s eyebrows shoot up. “Would that have satisfied you?

“Yes...No...Fuck!” Tony rubs his face with both hands. “I get it, you know? I get why you did this, I get that it’s cultural differences to an absurd degree… But we just killed someone, you know?”

“You make weapons for a living, Anthony.”

“Yeah, but soldiers are different!” It is the same rationalisation he has given countless of times, the one his Father gave before him. It really doesn’t hold up nearly as well right now. “It’s war, it’s different.”

“All fae are soldiers, the same way they are all civilians, none innocent and none guilty. Even her,” he says, jerking his head towards the body. “You apply distinctions that have no bearing here. And can you truly tell me that there has never been a “civilian” who has suffered because of your weaponry.”

Tony blinks once, twice, convulsively because he is this close to crying. He shakes his head, unable to speak.

Shit, shit, Loki’s right, Tony’s knows he’s right. Tony’s known for a long time now, but he’d been perfectly happy not to dwell on it so long as he wasn’t confronted by the facts.

Hey, it’s all good, he’s not a shitty person, all it took was dead body in front of him to realize that people actually die when he gives out weapons!

And then Loki comes up to him, hugs him with soothing sounds. He cannot feel the body heat through his thick armor, but the pressure is more than enough. Stupidly, he wraps his hand around the fae and hugs him back.

“You are distressed, Anthony, and that was not my intent.” A kiss on his forehead. “Although I do not understand the cause of your tears, I do not relish your pain.”

“But you don’t regret causing it, right?” Tony laughs weakly.

A pause. “I very much want to sooth your pain away.”

Tony sighs. “That’s about as good as I can get, right?”

“If one care for another, then one should fix whatever harm they have caused.”

“I’ll take it.” He pulls out of the hug, taking one or two steadying breaths. “I’m fine - well, no actually, I’m not, but as I’m good as I ever going to be. A shit-load of self-awareness and guilt I have to deal with, and there are going to be some major changes within Stark Industries when I get back, but I’m good for now.”

Loki frowns. “Your guilt burdens you.”

“Yeah, well, humans, what can you do?” Tony shrugs much more nonchalantly than what he truly feels. He is a thousand miles away from fine, but he’s Tony fucking Stark so he’ll hold it together until he doesn’t have to anymore. “I’ve been living carelessly for decades now, what’s a few hours more? I’ll break down once it’s over.” He breathes. “Come on, let’s go kill a King!”

Loki waits a few moments, before his frown morphs into a determined expression. “Yes, let’s!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They walk some more, going through a series of identical looking hallways before finally stopping for no apparent reason. Tony looks at Loki questioningly.

“The throne room is beyond these halls,” the fae explains. “Only the King and his guards are allowed within, except during feast held there for special occasions. It is not the case today.” Raising his scepter slightly, he drags the tip of it through the empty space in front of him. “From this point on, the wards will prevent our passage.”

“I sure hope they won’t, otherwise I just wasted months worth of work,” Tony answers. “So, are we doing this?”

Loki nods. “On the count of three.”

He raises his scepter. “One.”

Tony raises his hands, palms raised. “Two.”

The human finishes for him. “Three.”

Wards, as far as Loki explained, are basically walls with a computer program embed within them, deciding who goes through and who stays. The ones leading to the King are bound to be strong, of course, and thanks to information provided by the fae Tony managed to calculate that these wards are very fucking solid indeed.

But, well, every wall breaks if you hit it hard enough. And the combined strength of Tony’s repulsors and Loki’s scepter definitely pack of punch.

The air in front of them explodes in - what else? - gold light, sending the two of them stumbling back. The walls around them shake, and a large crashing sounds resonates throughout the hallways, making Tony flinch as he holds his ears.

Well, if they wanted discretion, then that definitely didn’t go as planned.

Loki curses besides him. “Old man must have redesigned them so as to shatter much more noisily than normal.”

Tony glares at him. “You just  _had_  to open your mouth at that feast, didn’t you?”

“Quiet,” the fae hisses, already beginning to run forward. “We are going to have to move along much faster than anticipated.”

“No problem there, Lokes. Try keeping your head down, it’ll keep the wind out of your eyes.”

“What the - Anthony!” Loki howls as Tony scoops him up by the waist and takes of, repulsors sending them flying through the corridors.

In all honesty, it is more than a little crazy what he is doing here. He never actually took the suit out for a test flight, and there are so many things that could go wrong that he may just accidentally kill both of them before they even meet the first guard.

But the suit responds to his movements beautifully, making sharp turns and dips like it’s nothing, and soon enough both Loki and him are laughing in exhilaration as the walls nearly blur past them in their speed.

Then they come across the first row of gold amours and the serious part begins.

“Do not slow down,” Loki commands, raising his staff.

Tony obeys, charging towards the living barricade. A blue beam comes out of the scepter, effectively blowing a hole right through the line of guards. A clear opening.

“Keep the rest of them down!”

“Way ahead of you,” Tony answers, already locking target on the remaining guards. The small guns on his shoulder flare to life, shooting ten specially designed bullets at once. The result is instantaneous, coming in the form of the sound of armor hitting the ground behind him.

Tony winces, but resolutely pushes forward.

They come across a couple more ambushes, and manage to get past all of them. Sometimes thanks to Tony’s armor, other times thanks to Loki’s staff, which he swings with vicious precision.

That isn’t to say that it is easy. Tony’s armor is now covered in scratches made by spears, some of which came too close to the joints between metal plates for comfort. Loki’s left arm has a nasty looking scratch, and although his movements don’t seem impaired Tony can definitely see how his teeth clench whenever he moves his arm too much.

Still, with the power of his repulsors and their efficient takedowns, it is only a matter of minutes before they reach two tall double-doors, made out of carved gold and incredibly heavy-looking.

Well, to a human, he supposed. Loki barely sweats as he pushes them open with his good arm. That’s one less thing to worry about at least.

Which is very good, because the line of guards standing in front of an intimidating as hell King is more than enough. The doors shut heavily behind them. Almost immediately Tony hears the sound of locks closing, and knows it is Loki keeping backup away.

Two against eleven, locked in a room, then. Great.

“Loki,” Odin greets, voice coldly polite. He doesn’t sound nearly as angry as Tony thought he might. “My son-”

Loki growls, cutting him off. His eyes gleam with fury as he spits out: “I am not your son.”

And then he lunges - correction,  _flies_  across the room, stabbing the guard standing in his way straight in the face, not pausing for a second as he pulls the staff out with a spin, hits another Einherjar coming to intercept him and continues straight for the King.

“Shit, Loki!” Tony screams.

“You will keep them off me, Anthony!” the fae orders, before thrusting his spear towards Odin, who dodges very neatly for such an old-looking man.

“Sure, easy,” Tony spits out, because it figures that Loki would give himself a nice dramatic duel while Tony is left to deal with ten very angry fairies.

Still, he is nothing if not a team player. That is, when it comes to life and death situation involving a fae he really doesn’t want to see die.

Sp, with all the bravado of his years in the spotlight, he says what is definitely in the top five of the stupidest things he ever said. “Hey, guys,” he calls out, drawing the guards’ attention, “I challenge you all to a joust. Melee style.”

The Einherjar pause, looking at each other in confusion.

Tony shrugs. “I’m serious. You and me, right now, let’s - okay, we’ve started!” His reflexes save him as two guards come charging at once. He stumbles to the side, fortunately managing to regain his balance before he falls. “Guess you people really aren’t hot on warnings, huh?”

He raises his arm, and smiles as he sees two more guards go down thanks to a powerful blast from his palm. Not letting the rest of them a moment to figure out what happened, he activates the two shooters on his shoulders, aiming to take them all out in one go.

Unfortunately, they must have some knowledge of what he is about to do because next thing he knows two spears go straight through the guns, completely destroying them. Cursing, he shoots up with his propulsors, narrowly avoiding the two additional spears that were going to skewer him while he was incapacitated.

It’s a clumsy dodge, ending in an ungraceful backflip in the air. Disoriented, he lands heavily on the ground, but still manages to focus his vision on his attackers.

The two that threw their spear at him are still unarmed, which is weird because Tony would have thought they would have taken advantage of his stumbling to summon more weapons.

And then he remembers: he challenged them to a joust. They can’t use magic because of stupid rules, only their weapons.

And they don’t have a super suit.

Tony smiles. “Oh, the joys of humanity!”

With that, he activates his repulsors again, tackling the nearest unarmed guard and punching him square in the face. The heaviness of the metal combined with the added power of his armor are enough to knock him out.

He doesn’t even wait for the Einherjar’s head to hit the ground before he is back up again, turning around to find the five remaining guards facing him, the one having thrown his spear having had the good sense to pick it up while he had the time.

So, it’s one against five, all in a line and approaching him.

Perfect.

With a smirk, he raises his right arm and lets the small rocket launcher embed within it do the rest.

The result is a spectacular explosion that takes out the guards but also sends him flying backwards (again, he feels like that’s been happening a lot today) and probably destroys at least one pillar.

He gets up quickly, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. The ringing in his head is reminiscent of a particularly bad hangover, and for a moment he honestly thinks he is going to throw up right there in his helmet. Loki would never…

Loki, shit!

He looks around wildly. His fight with the guards didn’t last that long, surely the two fae can’t have gone far, or killed each other already.

Indeed they haven’t. Rather, they have somehow found their way back to the bottom of the throne, fighting on the stairs with the same speed as the beginning.

Speed, yes, but not grace, at least where Loki is concerned. His arm is coated in blood now, his breath more ragged, and he is hitting with far more brute strength and less precision than what Tony has seen him do in the lab. Odin on the other hand, while not in pristine condition, is doing much better, his movements more controlled and his eyes calmer.

Frigga was right, his age hasn’t weakened him at all.

Loki swings, clumsily, and the King neatly ducks beneath the blow. He thrust his own spear as a counter attack, making Loki jump back to try to avoid what would have been a deadly blow to the stomach. It’s half successful, as the tip still cuts through his armor and skin, leaving a red gash from his ribs to just below his chest.

Tony knows what Loki wants. Dramatic diva that he is, only a single combat would do, the two generals facing off or whatever crap he came up in his mind. Maybe for the challenge to, or the poetry, or whatever.

But all that Tony sees is the man he cares about more than he ever thought possible being slowly taken down by a much more experienced and collected warrior. He doesn’t want to doubt Loki’s abilities, or imply that he is weak, but from where he is standing the outcome is clear.

Loki is going to lose. Loki is going to lose, and die.

And if there is is one thing Tony knows, it is that he is not going to let it happen.

If there is another thing Tony knows, it is that Loki’s story during the feast made it clear that double teaming a god is totally clear as far as the rules go.

Odin goes flying back when the last of the power from his repulsors hit him square in the chest. Loki looks at him furiously for a second, before a hint of gratitude creeps in and he rushes to keep the fallen King down.

It is quickly done, Tony’s last shot was a doozy. A nasty looking dagger is pulled out of Loki’s coat and stabbed through Odin’s hand in a nasty sound of bones crunching and stones breaking underneath. The All-Father howls, loudly, but stops himself when the tip of Loki’s scepter comes to rest right under his chin.

It’s a chilling pictures, really. Loki, bent over the King, eyes ablaze and arm still dripping with blood. Odin looking up, suddenly much weaker seeming.

Kidnapper, Tony reminds himself, child-thief.

Loki glares, lips pulling back into a sneer. “Is that all?”

The King, of all things, smiles. “Loki…”

“Come on, Odin-Conqueror,” the dark-haired fae spits out, “you are better than this.” His grip on the spear tightens, knuckles turning white as his arms start to tremble. “You, who defeated Zeus Thunder-Master, who thwarted the attempt of Vili. You are better than this.”

“My son…”

“You are not my Father!” Loki screams, full of rage. “No more lie s, never again!”  The tip of the scepter presses against the dip of the King’s throat, piercing the skin and making a small trail of blood appear down his neck. “I will kill you,” he growls, “I will kill you, and claim your throne.”

Tony thought Odin might have glared, or at least kept the same somber expression he had during the feast. Instead, he smiles grows all the more tender. “Yes, I had long thought it would be you who would dethrone me.”

“Then why not make more of an effort to stop me?” Loki hisses. “Why not kill me before I could take act? Why not use your magic to destroy my weapons? Why?”

“Because I did not wish to.”

The answer is so plain, so simple that it almost cuts Loki’s rage short. Almost, but not quite. In fact, it has the opposite effect, as the fae tries covering his surprise by renewing his grip on his weapon and digging it slightly deeper into the ruler’s throat.

“I so love exceptional creature, special creations, so much so that I cannot bear the thought of laying waste to them,” the King continues softly, completely unbothered, his smile taking a hint of self-deprecation. “King though I am, I am still subject to the rules of magic.”

“Then you are a fool,” Loki hisses. “What kind of ruler would not defend his power? What kind of man would encourage the growth of his greatest threat?”

“Any Father enjoys seeing his son grow.”

“You are not my Father!” Loki shouts again, and this time with the fury there is betrayal and accusation and… oh, Tony can feel his heart break for his fae.

There is agony.

He had believed Loki when he said that he wished to lie rather than lie to. He had believed him when he said he did not care about the humans who gave birth to him. And because of that, he had believed that Loki hadn’t cared about the lie at all.

Tony had hit the nail right on the head when he said that Loki’s world view had completely shattered, but somehow he missed the obvious.

Of course Loki wouldn’t care about two faceless humans. They are not the ones who were his parents.

“You are not my Father,” he repeats in a whisper, and it sounds so, so close to a sob Tony raises his hand as if he could touch Loki and comfort him at a distance.

There is blood coating Odin’s robes now. Although the cut on his neck is shallow, the flow of blood is still regular enough that the white fabric peeking out of his armor has long turned crimson. It stains the bottom of his beard, yet still the King doesn’t seem to notice it at all. “You are more my son than any other in this realm.”

Loki freezes. “What?”

Odin lifts his head up slightly, just enough to have a better view of his son’s face. “After I became All-Father, I seldom returned to the Realm parallel to ours. Although, every now and then I indulged. With my wife mainly, with a friend seldom, and rarest of all, alone.”

“It was such a time, more than a thousand years ago. Wandering the night in a land of the north, when I suddenly heard a child cry.” The King chuckles. “I can be very impulsive at times, even in my old age, so I followed the sound.”

“Stop it,” Loki grinds out.

“A boy, barely a few months old, alone in the room. The glass on one of the windows had shattered, and the cold of the night had woken the child up, and had caused his to cry.” Odin raises his head slightly. “A wordless call for help, but invitation enough.”

“Stop it.”

“He was so light in my hands, and I found that I wanted to keep him.”

“Stop it!” Loki yells. His voice resonates in the stone hall, bouncing back like an echo. His breathing is heavy, and his voice comes out hoarse. “It changes nothing.”

“Of course it does not,” Odin agrees. “You will not back down, not when you are so set in your goal. It is one of the reasons you are my favorite.”

“One more word and I will thrust the tip right into your vocal cords,” Loki growls in warning. The King raises an eyebrow, amused, but says nothing.

Tony steps forward. “Loki…”

“Hush, Anthony,” the fae snaps. Then more gently, he adds, “you may turn away if you desire.”

Tony shakes his head. “I’m with you.”

Loki gives him a small smile, before sobering up and looking back at the King. He raises his arms over his head, like a sacrificial pose in a biblical movie.

“If you will permit me some final words,” Odin says softly, and continues when Loki doesn’t object, “I knew from the very beginning that you were full of potential, and it has been the greatest of joys to see you grow and prosper.”

Loki nods, but the King isn’t finished. He smiles one final time, wide and true, his eyes shining and happy.

“I am proud of you.”

The spear goes down, cuts through flesh and arteries. Blood sprays, strong and messy, rapid spurts that die down just as fast.

And just like that, the All-Father is dead.

Weeks, months of work and it all came to an end. Just like that.

Tony can’t really believe it.

From the look on his face, neither can Loki.

The fae turns to him, expression even more open and raw than during his last words with the now dead King. Shock, elation, wonder, something else. His green eyes still shine with the same eerie glow that all fae possess, but they seem much brighter to Tony now. His lips part open. “Anthony…”

But whatever he was going to say is cut short by the sound of doors crashing open, and a loud, boisterous voice howling in anger and worry. “Father!”

Thor’s entrance acts like some sort of switch in Loki’s mind, for the fae’s expression immediately shifts in the same smug grin he usually wears, but tinted with an extra dose of genuine happiness. “Brother!” he calls out, as if he were genuinely surprised and pleased to see him. “Come and congratulate me on my most wondrous victory!”

Thor does come closer, but slowly, eyes going back and forth between the dead body on the floor and Loki, still grinning and stained with the All-Father’s blood. “Loki,” he says slowly, “what happened?”

“I am King now, brother!” is the answer he gets, said so cheerily Tony might honestly forget all that it implies. “Congratulate me!”

The blond steps closer still, his mouth pulled between a frown of confusion and a smile, depending on where he looks. His eyes go to rest on Odin.

“He is dead?” he asks quietly. “Is the All-Father dead?”

“Of course the All-Father isn’t dead, I am here aren’t I?” Loki giggles -  _giggles_ \- as he shakes his head fondly. “Honestly Thor, it is hardly complicated.”

He closes the distance between the two, one hand reaching out to cup the back of Thor’s neck.“I care for you so dearly Thor, as I know you do me,” he says softly. “I am All-Father, a father to all my children. And you,” he adds with a tender smile, “you are my brother, as it should be.”

In that moment Thor looks so much like a lost puppy that Tony has the sudden need to snatch him away from Loki’s grip, because this entire exchange is just too much, too messed up, and made even worse when Thor starts smiling as well. “I am glad to see you so happy,” he states, voice louder and more confident than mere moments before. “My King,” he salutes, and presses his forehead against Loki’s.

It’s all so tender and intimate, but all Tony can see is Loki’s stroking Thor’s hair and leaving a trail of blood on it.

The doors burst open, again, and this time it is Thor’s friends that come through.

“Thor,” Sif calls out, running forward with her sword in hand, “we’ve come as soon as we’ve heard your call, where is the All-Father?!”

Dead on the floor, Tony thinks, and quickly tries to check just which of his weapons are still operational. Not many, he realizes with a wince, and he hopes to god that Loki will find a way out of this for the two of them. He has to, because no matter how strong he is there is no way he can take on all four of them.

“Right here, my children.”

Tony turns to see Loki release Thor and walk towards the group. The smile on his face is reminiscent of Odin’s, although it is tinged with more self-satisfaction and victory. “Your valour is admirable, but sadly you shall not prove it today. Lower your weapons, you have no need for them.”

And they do lower them, even Sif who would have loved nothing more than drive her sword straight through Loki. At least, she would have before.

Before Loki became All-Father.

“That is very good,” the fae continues, benevolent, smug. “Spirits are high, and perhaps an outlet is needed. Perhaps a feast, to celebrate such a joyful day?”

Volstagg beams, Hogun nods, a small smile on his lips. Fandral announces his pleasure through lascivious grins and waggling eyebrows.

Sif bows low. “You honor us, Father of us all.”

The others follow, one arm crossed over their chest, hand balled into a fist.

Huh, Tony thinks, just like that.

He’s been thinking that a lot lately.

Loki killed Odin, and became King. Odin was the All-Father, but now he is just a dead body and how can a corpse be King? It can’t, because the King is Loki.

No questions need to be asked. Why would they? They have all that they want.

Why go against that, when no one else does?

Tony certainly didn’t, he realizes. The thought feels distant even as it hits him like a ton of bricks.

Despite all his talk of psycho fairies and insane people he had somehow gotten used to this world, had been swept away by days filled with creating and innovating and Loki, and how long has it been since he actually thought about Earth, about going back?

He had fun in Asgard, he realizes, because everything was new and dangerous and stimulating and he just sort of… forgot about the rest.

He fucking forgot because he was having too much fun.

And yeah, crushing on Loki had made him doubt, struggle with what it meant about him, but again, it was about Tony Stark and how he felt about himself. And yeah, he did make that bargain about the children, but once that was done he went straight back to enjoying himself and never mind Earth.

What kind of man does that?

He looks at the still cooling body on the floor, at the fae bowing before the man he still has feelings for and in that moment he knows that he needs to get away from here fast, needs to break away from fairyland and grey and purple morality before once again he forgets all the new epiphanies and resolutions from earlier that day.

He looks at Loki, standing proud and content like the King he is now.

He doesn’t want to leave him, really.

It’s just that he doesn’t want to be the kind of man who would stay here more.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, a battle scene can be cleaned up pretty quickly when magic is on your side. In a matter of minutes, the bodies and blood are ushered away, as some fae rush around to spread the news, whilst other come closer to take a look at the new All-Father.

There is going to be a feast to celebrate, of course. Barely hours after the previous King was killed, and no one is even mourning. Of course not.

Loki and Tony stand in the middle of all that, at the steps of the throne. As far as Tony is concerned, this is a whole new level of awkward: what do two people talk about after a successful Coup d’Etat? Beats him.

The Trickster doesn’t seem to have that same problem, though, as he looks over the halls in profound distaste. “So much gold all around… You are right, Anthony, it is incredibly gaudy. I need to have that changed promptly.”

“That’d be a great first act a King, you have my full support!” he says cheerily, though it sounds forced to his own ears. He rubs the back of his neck. “So...I guess I’d better be going.”

Loki looks back at him, clearly startled. “You leave? So soon?”

“I need to.”

“Need, pah!” Loki sneers, waiving his hand dismissively. “You could stay here for as long as you like. There is no time limit on the portals.”

“Look, Lokes, not gonna lie, I’ll miss you when I leave. Really, I will. But as much fun as I had with you - not just that kind of fun, sex-for-brains, don’t give me that lear! - there’s just…” He sighs. “I’ve been missing for god knows how long on Earth, and there are things there I need to do. All the fuck ups you made me aware of? I need to fix them, I need to own up to them… If I stay here any longer, it will be like all the other times I did whatever the fuck I wanted, no matter the consequences or even how healthy it was.” Scratching the back of his head, he adds sheepishly: “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need to be more responsible, I guess. You understand?”

“No, Anthony, I do not understand why you would impose misery upon yourself, you know that.” Loki sighs in turn. “However, our agreement still holds, and if you wish to return, then there is little I can do.”

“Thanks,” Tony answers quietly. He hesitates before adding: “Look, this doesn’t have to be goodbye for ever, right? I mean… First of all, you’ll have to bring my suit and the rest of my stuff back, and you can still come over to Earth, and we can hang out or… you know…”

“I am the King, Tony, I have responsibilities,” Loki answers haughtily. “I cannot simply “hang out”.”

“Don’t give me that shit, you’ll do whatever the fuck you want.”

The fae laughs. “You speak the truth, my clever human!” He sobers up, shaking his head. “I displeases me that you leave, but it is in our deal. Shall you leave right away, then?”

Tony sighs. “Yeah.”

Loki nods. “Then leave through the main doors, and continue straight until you find the garden. There will be a lake there, as calm and smooth as a lake can be. All you need to do is dive, and magic should take care of the rest.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I do not wish to,” the fae answers simply, as if that explained everything. Which it does from his viewpoint, Tony supposes.

“Great, thanks. Hope my car is still there, otherwise I’ll punch you next time I see you.” It’s a weak joke, but it is enough to make the fae smile.

Loki cups his face with his hands, and smiles gently. “Until then.”

Tony closes his eyes just in time for Loki’s lips to touch his. It’s a gentle, soft thing, but one heavy with emotion. Their mouths do not part open, but in the delicate press there is so much more emotion than Tony thought possible for something so chaste. It almost makes him dizzy.

Loki pulls back, and looks into Tony’s eyes. The inventor holds his gaze for a few seconds, before turning and walking away.

No more word is said.

He’s doing the right thing, he reminds himself as he walks towards the lake. For once, he is doing the right thing.

These days in fairyland had been exhilarating, dangerous, thrilling. Loki had been all that, with an extra helping of sex and liberal physical affection.

Loki could easily become his new fast cars, his new alcohol, and he would be ten times more dangerous because Loki could love him back, could reward him in ways those other addictions never could.

If he wants to change his ways, if he wants to make amends for all the harm he has done in his carelessness - and he does, oh Tesla, he does - then he knows he cannot come back here. Loki is free to visit whenever he wants, but that’s it.

So it’s perfectly understandable that he takes a minute to take in Asgard one last time. Even with all that soon-to-be-gone gold, it’s still quite a sight. It is beautifully reflected in the water, which is just as astounding as Loki had described it.

Still, he needs to go back to the real world. So, after one big step, he dives into the lake.

The sensation of breathing underwater is just as weird as the first time he came through. Having done it once already doesn’t quite quell the sensation that surely he is going to drown any time now, even as he goes down deeper and deeper still without the slightest discomfort.

Just like last time, there is a surface where the bottom should be, and although the water was never truly dark, more and more lights shines through as he comes closer and closer to the air.

He emerges, finally, taking one unnecessary gulp of air before looking around to find…

Asgard’s castle just in front of him.

What the hell?

He looks around in confusion. Did he do it wrong, somehow?  _Can_  it be done wrong?

It didn’t feel like he made any mistakes. In fact, it had all gone perfectly well except for the huge important detail that he is still in fucking fairyland.

With a grumble, he climbs out. He’s dry, thankfully enough, because if he has to haul his ass back to the palace, then he refuses to do it dripping wet.

He should have figured that it wouldn’t work with just a human. Fucking fae probably don’t even notice it since magic is so inherent to them, but there has to be some sort of magical laissez-passer for this to work. Otherwise, any stupid human could just jump into a lake for one nasty surprise on the other side.

He makes his way towards the throne room, positive that he’ll find Loki there. The new King will just have to get over himself: a deal is a deal, and Tony will be going home.

Sure enough, Loki is still in the throne room when he comes back, lounging on the large golden chair whilst servants scurry around to summon tables and chairs in preparation for a feast, apparently. Figures - a new King would be special enough an occasion to hold it here.

Upon seeing Tony entering, the dark-haired fae invites him to come closer, which Tony does without a thought.

“You are still here,” Loki comments. There is no true surprise in his voice. It is more as if he were stating that fact with some sort of casual resignation.

“Uh, yeah, the lake thing didn’t work,” Tony replies. His steps bring him closer and closer, until he stands right before Loki. “I mean, it just brought me back where I started.”

“Hmm, yes... I had thought to give it a try,” Loki murmurs thoughtfully. “I was less than sure that it would work, but I had to try, for the bargain to be fulfilled.” Grabbing onto Tony’s arms, he pulls him forward. “Sit.”

“Woah, wow, ok!” Tony trips and babbles as he falls onto Loki’s lap, his armored suit falling of him as he does. The fae pulls him closer until his legs are resting on the armrest and his back is held up by Loki’s arm. “I hhmmm…!”

He is being kissed, again, and it is much more passionate than the farewell kissed they had shared before his first trip to the lake. Not that that one wasn’t intense in its own right, but this one is at a whole other level, Loki’s arms holding him close, one of his hands on the back of his head. Tony’s arms are wrapped around the fae’s neck, and it doesn’t stop, not even as he moans and pants, not until he pulls away forcefully, gasping for air.

“Yeah, great,” he pants, “would have been a shame to miss that.” He giggles as Loki keeps pressing small kisses on the corner of his mouth, then on his cheek and trailing down his neck. “Woah there, I’ve been gone for like five - oooh, yeah mmh - minutes… You said you weren’t sure it would work…”

“Indeed,” Loki says between kisses. “Though I thought it fair to at least attempt it.” He pulls back and pulls Tony closer still, so that his head is tucked right under his neck. Fingers start stroking his hair. “Magic responds to the user’s desires, and despite our agreement, I do not wish for you to leave. Therefore, I cannot summon the means for you to do so.”

“Damn,” Tony grumbles, “Flattering, but damn.”

“Indeed,” Loki sighs. “I could never have anticipated growing so attached to a human.”

“Yeah well, that’s life you know, full of surprises and mysteries and what not.” He tries to sit back up and stretch himself, but Loki’s grip remains strong. “Jeesh your strength, A+ for hugging skills but let a guy move a bit will ya?” The hold loosens a fraction. “Okay, not quite there yet, but good enough. So, you can’t summon me a portal then.”

“No.”

“That’s fine, we can work around that.” Tony tilts his head up, and smirks when Loki steals a peck. “If you asked someone else to do it, would it work?”

“Most likely, less, unless the become as enchanted with you as I am.”

“Great! So, that’s what we’re doing then?”

“No.”

Tony freezes. “What?”

He pulls back to find Loki looking at him so, so tenderly, still stroking his hair. Such a sight would have made Tony smile in return if it weren’t for the cold dread in his guts. “I shan’t have another make a portal for you.”

“Loki…” Tony’s voice sounds so small to his own ears. “I have to go back, you know, back to Earth. You know that…” He tries to keep his tone reasoning, but it is slipping dangerously close to pleading as Loki keeps on ignoring what he is saying and places a small kiss on his forehead.

“Dammit, Loki…” Tony wants to be angry, he really, really wants to be, but somehow between Loki’s petting and kissing and his own gut-clenching fear, he cannot quite get there.

Understanding is blossoming in his mind, completely unwanted because if Loki is saying what Tony thinks he’s saying, then Tony is getting completely screwed over in the worst of ways. He tries to pull away, to stand up and run, but his arms are limp and trembling and the fae is so much stronger than him.

“You said you would limit yourself to orphans or… or… We agreed to this, I’m not I child, you..!” Tony babbles. “We had a deal!”

“I know, Anthony, but I am unable to fulfill some clauses fully, no matter how I try,” Loki chiddes. “Had it been you in my stead, I would have released you from your end. Therefore, it is only fair that the same courtesy be returned to me.”

“No, no it’s not fair, you fucker! It is nowhere near fair!” Tony bites out, knowing all the while that it is completely pointless. You can’t reason or argue with someone who operates on a completely different value and moral system, you just can’t.

Fuck fae, fuck their rules and fuck Loki who is still stroking Tony’s back so goddam lovingly and is looking at him as if he were the most precious thing in both worlds and fuck that part of him that is actually preening at such attention  _now_ of all times.

“Such fun you shall have, here, Anthony,” Loki murmurs. “The life of the king’s chosen is always full of delights. My subjects will love you, just as they loved the All-Mother Frigga and all…”

“I’m not Frigga!” Tony cries out. “I’m Tony Stark, I have a life back on Earth and…”

“We shall have a life here, and it will be much longer and much more liberating than what the dulness of humanity could possibly provide. Oh, Anthony,” Loki sighs in contentment, “we shall be so happy together.”

Tony cannot move, can barely formulate a coherent thought as Loki pulls him up again, effortlessly arranging him so that they are face to face, his legs straddling the fae’s lap. He barely puts up a fight at all, his mind racing to find a way out that doesn’t exist.

Loki cups his face with his two hands gently, ever so gently, and brings his face closer with a smile that makes Tony want to weep at both the beauty and the horror of it.

“Loki,” he croaks out, one final desperate, pointless plea, “you can’t do this… you can’t...”

Loki’s smile grows softer still, if that were at all possible. “The King can do as he likes.”

And Loki kisses him, softly but intently. He tastes of apples.

After a few infinite seconds, Tony starts kissing him back.

The fae come to the feast, and cheer and eat and toast to their King.

Somewhere near a reservoir a car turns to rust, and no one cares.

Thor raises his cup to his brother’s happiness, and Volstagg eats with renewed merriment.

And Loki breaks from the kiss, chuckling against his beloved’s skin. And Tony laughs with him, high and joyful, before claiming those lips anew.

And Sif grabs an uncouth fae’s head and smashes it against the table.

And Fandral is caught between a warrior and a maid, and loses himself with them in the pleasures he is so well-known for, and what magic they use to make the sensations more intense! They do so because it is now within the rules, because the will of the sovereign dictates the games in the hall, because the All-Father himself partakes so delightfully with his newly-crowned King. He has promised his beloved an eternity of delights, and it starts now.

And Loki caresses, kisses, whispers words of love in Tony’s ears.

And Tony, between his gasps and moans and whimpers for more, answers the same, all else forgotten.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *WARNING: this fic contains murder on screen, brainwashing/mind control, arguable Stockholm Syndrome depending on how you read Tony and Loki's relationship. Also, Kidnapping is heavily referred to and happens on screen. This all means that Tony and Loki's relationship is problematic at best.*


End file.
